Lost Souls
by Madz
Summary: AU. Rory meets a quiet, intriguing man with a secret: he sees more than most people. They've saved each other, now where do they go from here?The answer: Stars Hollow! RT. Chapter 17 is up!
1. One September Day

A/N: This is my first fic! Unfortunately, I don't own anything though :(. Ok, so this is an AU and it's a TRORY of course! Rory dated Dean for three years until she was 19 and he was killed in a car accident. She's pretty much in character although she's a little more introverted because of the Dean-trauma. Tristan's  
  
Probably really out of character but oh well! Anyways, he's got a sixth sense and Rory will soon realize that Dean never truly left her............  
  
Like I said, it's my first fic so plz be a little gentle (but honest with the reviews! Here it is! Hope you guys enjoy!!!!  
  
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Chapter 1:   
  
One September Day  
  
Sometimes, Rory couldn't help but wish that coffee was an exclusive beverage reserved for only those who had a crazy dependence and loyalty to it, like her and her mother, for instance.   
  
It was a gloomy September day and massive thunderheads hung low in the sky, a severe rainstorm was considered imminent and people were pouring into her beloved Second Cup, hoping to wait out the storm. There were more people then chairs and the noise level had risen beyond belief. Luckily, Rory was a regular here so it wasn't too hard for her to find a seat and get a cup of her delicious elixir of life.   
  
Rory had just begun her second year at Yale, studying history and English with the hope of majoring in journalism. Life was pretty good right now. Leaving her mother and Stars Hollow had been hard and giving up Luke's coffee even harder, but Rory had survived. Her roommate, Chelsea, although a little annoying, was really nice and Rory was living it up as an independent woman. She spent her free time studying, book hunting, and discovering quaint little coffee shops like this one.   
  
Rory didn't like to spend all her free time socialize. She was still quiet and reserved, she fooled herself into thinking that she was too busy for parties and boyfriends. There were no guys in the picture at the moment. Dean, her boyfriend of two years, had died last November and Rory had been crushed, but she pushed all thoughts of him out of her head. She didn't want to dwell on that anymore; she didn't know if her heart was strong enough.   
  
A loud clap of thunder interrupted Rory's thoughts and the coffeehouse was immediately thrown into silence as every head turned towards the windows. Huge raindrops splattered on the ground, one after another in a quick succession. They came pelting down and the wind pushed them into a nearly horizontal downfall.   
  
That was when she saw him. The bell above the door jingled, signaling his arrival as he came running in, already soaked by the rain. He was tall and lean, with incredible blue eyes that spoke volumes to her. His golden hair was wet and pasted to his head but he ran a quick hand through it, leaving it tousled and disarrayed in its wake. He wore a pair of old jeans, a faded T-shirt, and a worn, light jacket and his shoes squeaked as he crossed the crowded room and went to stand at the window near her little table.   
  
He crossed his arms in front of his chest in an attempt to keep warm and shivered a bit in the cool, air-conditioned shop. His eyes had quickly scanned the room and finally came to rest on something outside the window. He seemed distant, like his body was here but his mind was far, far away.   
  
She didn't know what came over her, but before she knew it, Rory's mouth was open and unbidden words escaped her lips and directed themselves towards him. "You know, you're not supposed to stand in front of a window during a thunderstorm."  
  
He snapped to attention and looked at her. His eyes, his incredible sapphire eyes, locked with hers and she thanked God that she was sitting down, or else her legs would have given out. But he surprised her by looking around him, self-consciously, as if to make sure that she was talking to him. He seemed to note that most of the people were talking amongst themselves and that she must have spoken to him, but when he turned back to her he hesitated and looked at her questioningly.   
  
"It's not safe," Rory added lamely, making sure that they had eye contact this time.   
  
"Oh." Another hesitation, but then a gentle, shy smile. "Thanks for the heads up, but I think I'm safe in here."   
  
Yet again, Rory didn't know what possessed her mouth. It might have been that smile, or his incredible azure eyes, but she found her mouth rebelling even further. "You can sit down...," her table seated two, but the other chair was currently vacant, "...if you'd like."  
  
He seemed to think it over for a second and, it may have been Rory's imagination taking over, he looked like he really wanted to. But there was something holding him back. His intense, penetrating eyes kept switching back and forth; one second he was gazing shyly at her and the next he was staring over her shoulder with a look of ... fear in his eyes.   
  
Resisting the urge to turn and see of there was something frightening behind her, Rory gave him a tentative, encouraging smile hoping it was enough to convince him. This was the first time that she had thought about a guy in a non-platonic way since the incident last November and she was praying that he wouldn't reject her and move to the other side of the café.   
  
There was something about him, something mysterious, fascinating. She could sense that he went much deeper than most people did, his eyes gave him away. They were alert and sharp, yet beautiful and gentle. But he looked sad, ...sad and alone. Rory was drawn to him like a moth to the flame.  
  
He finally seemed to make his decision and, with a soft smile, made his way to the table and sat himself down across from her.   
  
"Thanks." He mumbled, his face flushed. He was suddenly very interested in his shoes.   
  
"No problem." Rory knew her face reciprocated his blush but she pushed that thought aside and smiled brightly, tucking her novel into her backpack at her feet. "I'm Rory. It's nice to meet you."  
  
He was caught off guard by her beaming grin and her new, confident attitude but he smiled back. "Likewise."  
  
"Do you always make conversation one word at time?" Rory laughed, feeling more comfortable with him in a few seconds than she ever did with Dean.  
  
He blushed again and she had to admit that it was adorable. "No." Rory laughed triumphantly as he caught his mistake.   
  
"Let me try that again..." He took a deep breath, preparing himself for rejection. "It's nice to meet you, too, Rory Gilmore. My name's Tristan."  
  
~~~~  
  
So what do you guys think? Should I keep it or scrap it? Please review and lemme know or else I porbably won't write anymore!!!! 


	2. Tell Me Who You Are

A/N: Thank you sooo much for the reviews guys! Here's the second installment, I had it done already but I wasn't sure if I wanted to post it but your encouraging words were a big help.   
  
To SkiBlueSkiesSnowyHills: Sorry! It was a mistake! Rory and Tristan have never met before, it was an honest mistake (and as you'll see, I make lots of them!). Thank you for pointing it out. Tristan Dugrey went to Chilton but ran away to Princeton before his 18th birthday. He doesn't go to Yale but Rory, who went to some other prestigious school, does.  
  
One more thing: this chapter includes the same time and setting as the 1st one, but it's from Tristan's POV. This is probably the only time that two full chapters will be spent on one situation, I just want to fully introduce the characters to you. More action will arrive in the future, I promise! Enjoy!  
  
  
  
Chapter 2:  
  
Beyond the World of the Living  
  
Tristan jumped as he heard the first clap of thunder. Startled, he gazed up at the angry sky and, upon seeing the dark, chaotic storm clouds, began searching for a place to wait out the storm.   
  
The part of town that he was in now was filled with expensive department stores and high-class restaurants. Tristan didn't feel comfortable entering any of those places since he new that he would probably be asked to leave. Having never been able to afford his own car, Tristan had no choice but to go to the Second Cup on the corner. For one thing, he didn't like coffee. It smelled wonderful but it always kept him awake and Tristan had enough trouble sleeping as it is.  
  
The second, more important factor was that the café was crowded with people. Tristan had never been a fan of crowds. It was so easy to hide or blend into a crowd, you could lose yourself and just let everything go and follow the current. But it was impossible to ensure your safety. In a crowd, people surrounded you on all sides, it was too hard to watch your back and the direction you're going. Anyone could pick your pocket or steal a cell phone and by the time you figured it out and turned around it was to late, the thief was lost in the sea of faces. Joining a crowd meant letting down your defenses.   
  
And, of course, in a crowd, it was easy to confuse the living with the dead.  
  
Tristan had always been shy and introverted as a child. The one thing that had always made him hide in the back of the classroom was them. He was afraid to let people see who he really was, afraid to let them know. He was a freak and he knew it.   
  
For as long as he could remember, Tristan had seen things that other, normal people couldn't. Tristan had had to deal with them for as long as he could remember. Ghosts, phantoms, spirits, lost souls, whatever you want to call them. They haunted his days and plague his dreams. They were everywhere; all around him, walking among the living just like normal people. Most of them didn't know they were dead and the ones that did were the worst. Some of them wanted him to relay messages to loved ones, others wanted him to tie up their unfinished business. And some of them wanted to hurt people.   
  
Tristan did the best he could to help them and send them on their way, but he lived his life in fear of them, in fear of everyone. He always felt detached, alone, different. Anytime he tried to live normally; he would see one and remember. It was like they were holding it over his head, wanting him to feel desolate, isolated. He could imagine it:  
  
Na-na-na bo bo. You're a freak. Don't tell them, they'll all hate you, they'll be afraid of you. Compassion? In your dreams. They'll run screaming, is that what you want? Is it?   
  
They were words he heard every single night in his dreams. Sometimes it was his mother's voice, sometimes it was his father's, or even the waitress at the Chinese restaurant, the old man asking for money, and even strangers.   
  
He didn't want to end up in a laboratory, in a cell, or on CNN. He knew how people reacted to the paranormal; he could imagine the disbelief, fear, and, worst of all, disgust. He could imagine it, and had experienced it a few times from the families and friends of spirits who had selected him to speak on their behalf. And he hated it. Each time it happened a little more of him died, another piece of his courage was torn off and thrown to the wind.   
  
That was one of the reasons he had left home. Shortly before his eighteenth birthday he had started hearing things that no one else heard, seeing inexplicable things that simply shouldn't be possible. They invaded his mind and his privacy, rearranged things in his room, threw things at him. But the most terrifying experience was when they touched him. As soon as he felt their cold, clammy skin on his, he was bombarded with heartbreaking images about their life and terrible images of their death.  
  
And there was no one he could turn to. Tristan DuGrey didn't feel fear or seek out someone for help and he most certainly didn't go around speaking about the ghosts that frequented his life. If he had, his rich, socialite parents would sooner send him off to a psychiatric hospital than risk having their imaged tarnished. Tristan shuddered just thinking about the tortured spirits who were likely roaming the halls of a mental ward.  
  
Tristan hadn't been able to handle it any longer. The suffocating fear that came along with the experiences were just to much for him to take, so he had decided to run away. Hartford society, more specifically his parents, would never understand. So he had packed up and left; bought a tiny apartment, gotten a low-paying job and decided to make a new life. It was new all right, new, challenging, and lonely. Tristan had never met anyone else with the same abilities as him and he had no idea where they had come from.   
  
He sighed as he jogged across the street, already soaked through by the rain, deciding that it was better if he didn't think about it just now. He pulled open the door to Second Cup and winced as the bell above it shouted out his arrival. Many people turned to stare and he looked down, crossing the floor to stand by a window, until they looked away again, uninterested. He quickly scanned the room but, not wanting to appear rude, didn't really focus on anyone, instead he gazed at the rumbling thunder clouds and the pouring rain.   
  
Fear gripped his heart as he spotted a lone man, standing in the middle of the road. He too, was soaked by the rain but Tristan knew that the water that soaked through this man's jacket was rain from a long time ago, from the night that he had died. Their was an open cut on the side of his head and blood oozed down his cheek. Tristan had seen it all before, he wasn't as scared as he was the first couple of times it happened, just uncomfortable and sorry. But Tristan knew that this spirit didn't want his pity, they never did, instead he could see the raw hatred in his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest in an effort to shield himself from this ghost's pure contempt that chilled Tristan down to his very soul.   
  
That's when she first spoke to him, her gentle voice easing his tired, frightened mind.   
  
"You know, you're not supposed to stand in front of a window during a thunderstorm." Startled yet again, Tristan's head snapped up and he locked gazes with the most extraordinary cerulean eyes he'd ever seen. They were deep and peaceful and radiated kindness, her chestnut coloured hair flowed past her shoulders and down her back, and her slender frame reclined in a chair with a novel resting in her lap.   
  
She was simply beautiful. The most exquisite, angelic creature he had ever seen and what shocked him the most was that she appeared to be directing her comment at him. Yeah right, keep dreaming DuGrey. And he was sure he was. It must have been a dream, but the feeling of fear and excitement were all too real.   
  
He dragged his eyes away from hers and, ducking his head, looked around self-consciously feeling jealously towards whomever she was speaking to. Suprisingly, he couldn't find anyone looking her way so he turned back to her, still not sure what to believe.  
  
"It's not safe," She added, looking him straight in the eye. Wow.   
  
"Oh," He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he realized that she had been addressing him. Say something smooth, DuGrey, he ordered himself. "Thanks for the heads up, but I think I'm safe in here." Yeah, way to go. I'm sure you just knocked her socks right off!  
  
Figuring it was a lost cause, he turned away and was in the middle of berating himself for being such an idiot when she blew his "socks" of by speaking again.   
  
"You can sit down...if you'd like."   
  
No way had this gorgeous girl just invited him to sit with her. Tristan ignored that shy, fearful feeling in his stomach and was about to say yes when he happened to glanced over her shoulder. Standing behind her with his non-existent hand resting on her shoulder was a tall, lean man about Tristan's age with floppy brown hair and angry, jealous eyes. The guy, like the one outside, was covered in blood that dripped off of him but never actually hit the floor. And, also like the man standing in the rain, he was dead but either didn't know it or didn't care. He had obviously lost his life in some kind of accident but something was binding him to this world.  
  
That something, Tristan guessed, was the beautiful girl.  
  
She couldn't feel the ghostly hand resting on her shoulder but Tristan could clearly see the rage in his dark brown, almost black, eyes. He was very protective, to the point of extreme, mad posession, of this oblivious girl and Tristan could feel the animosity flowing of off him in waves.   
  
His ability to see beyond the world of the living had also heightened his senses so much that Tristan could feel the crowd's displeasure at the rain, the girl's confusion, and the spirit's malice. His eyes darting back and forth from the girl to the ghost, he realized that she was still waiting for his reply.  
  
How could he have forgotten? Swallowing his fear and willing his hands to stop trembling, Tristan stared down at his shoes as he took a seat and shyly replied, "Thank you."   
  
"No problem." She gave him a dazzling smile and Tristan thanked God that he was sitting down or else his legs would've given out. Her now confident air and bright, open curiosity and kindness drew him to her in an inexplicable way. "I'm Rory. It's nice to meet you."  
  
He smiled back. Rory. It fit her perfectly. "Likewise." Real smooth, just like 007.   
  
She laughed at that and he was so happy to know that he was the reason behind that melodious sound. "Do you always make conversation one word at time?"   
  
He blushed at his monosyllabic way of speaking. "No."  
  
She laughed again, this time louder, more free with a hint of triumph. He was so mesmerized by her that it took him a minute to realize that he had given her a one-word answer again.   
  
Yet again, he found himself blushing and he inwardly cursed himself. What, is red the new skin tone? Gathering what was left of his dignity and relying heavily on his courage, he struggled to make amends.   
  
"Let me try that again..." He took a deep breath, preparing himself for rejection. "It's nice to meet you, too, Rory. My name's Tristan."   
  
~~~~  
  
Get it? Tristan has a sixth sense! And yes, that ghost standing posessively behind Rory is Dean!   
  
Am I confusing you? Great! Then my goal for today is accomplished! Jks! Please review and feel free to give constructive criticism or ask any questions! 


	3. Beyond the World of the Living

A/N: Sorry, guys. I was reading over it when I realized that my computer decided to screw me over by not posting the last (and in my opinion, best) part of the story!!! Don't worry, though! My computer has realized it's mistake and here now is the full chapter 3!!!!!!!! Enjoy! I'll probably post again on next Tuesday!  
  
One last thing then we'll get to the good stuff: THANK YOU SOOO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS!!!!!! I HAVE THE BEST FANS!!!! I LUV YOU GUYS!!!!!!!   
  
Chapter 3:  
  
Tell Me Who You Are  
  
Rory was overjoyed. This completely gorgeous, adorable guy had actually accepted her offer and joined her at her table. She could practically hear Lorelai's voice in her head saying: 'You go, mini-me. No man can resist the Gilmore charm.' The thought made Rory smile and she realized that she had something else to be thankful for.   
  
Tristan.  
  
It suited him just right and Rory had to admit that just the sight of him, not to mention his adorable blush, made her heart race. For a moment she had been afraid that he would turn her down; his frantic glances over her shoulder made her wonder if her mother had come up behind her with blown-up, embarrassing baby pictures or huge granny underwear. It took all her strength to resist turning around and checking.  
  
But, thank God, he hadn't run away screaming. Instead, he less than gracefully took a seat and gave her that shy smile that melted her heart.   
  
As she took a sip of her calming coffee, Rory couldn't stop her eyes from wandering and examining his strong chin and his soft, kissable lips. 'Whoa, whoa, whoa! Kissable?!?!? Since when do you go around dreaming about kissing guys you've just met?!'   
  
Rory shocked herself with that thought. Ever since Dean had died, she had had a hard time getting back in the swing of things. Her best friend, Lane, had set her up on a blind date but Rory had adamantly refused to go. Whether it was dating, flirting, or anything having to do with a guy, Rory felt like she was betraying Dean.   
  
Dean. She knew now that he wasn't the love of her life and that she could and would move on, but it took time. He was her first love, her first kiss; it was hard to just completely forget about him. Forget, how could she ever forget that fateful night?   
  
He had been on his way to her grandparent's house for dinner. Rory asked him to be there; telling him it would mean a lot to her. She could remember how badly the first dinner went, but he had still agreed to go because he loved her. But the roads were bad, black ice was everywhere and he didn't show. Rory had been worried about him being so late when she got the call from his sister.   
  
There had been an accident. Something had wandered on to the road and Dean had swerved, trying not to hit the animal, or person. The witnesses said they had been sure what it was, they had only seen Dean's car jerk to the right, hit black ice, and slam into a tree. An ambulance had arrived and by then, whatever was in the road was gone. Dean was rushed to the hospital, they did everything they could, Rory knew that, but he was announced dead on arrival.   
  
Rory had been devastated. It was all her fault and she knew it. If she hadn't insisted on him being there, if he hadn't been rushing just so he could please her, he'd still be alive today. How could she talk to a guy without remembering that she was responsible for someone's death? That feeling of guilt was always there.   
  
But not with Tristan. She was excited and eager to know everything about this enigmatic, handsome young man but he beat her to speaking.  
  
"What were you reading?"  
  
Rory pulled out her book and showed it to him.  
  
"Pride and Prejudice. It's really good, one of my favourites actually." Books. That was a safe topic, something she could freely talk about.   
  
Tristan read the back quickly. "Hmm, it sounds good. I've never read it before."  
  
"You can borrow it." Rory had no idea why she was giving a stranger one of her favourite books, but for some reason she felt like she could trust him.  
  
"Thank you, but I couldn't, you're reading it."  
  
"Oh, don't worry about it. I've already read it thirteen times, you won't ruin it for me." Tristan accepted the book with a soft 'Thank you' and Rory felt incredibly stupid for admitting to reading a romantic Jane Austen novel thirteen times. A somewhat uncomfortable silence fell between them and this time it was Rory's turn to break it.   
  
"So, Tristan. That's a very interesting name."  
  
"Yeah, a very interesting name for a very boring person." Rory grinned and he returned it, a bit sheepishly.   
  
"I don't believe that!"  
  
"No?" He smiled at her, amused and surprised. There was something different about her. She was like no other girl he had ever met.   
  
"Nope. Everybody is interesting in their own way. Everyone has a story."  
  
Tristan sucked in a breath sharply and, before she would notice, covered it by clearing his throat. Would she want to know his story? Would she still be interested and kind, or would she run, like all the others?  
  
Rory wondered if she had sounded too naïve and found herself wishing that she could take back what she had said. In a softer, more timid voice she asked, "You don't think so?"  
  
Tristan, realizing that she had taken his silence the wrong way, gathered his courage to be honest. He didn't want to lie to her, he liked her and wanted her to like him but he knew that that would never happen if she knew the truth. And even though he didn't want to, but he knew that very soon he would have to lie to her.   
  
"Oh, no, I agree with you. It's just that...I don't think that everyone always has a...good story." Tristan held his breath, waiting for her reply.   
  
Rory thought about it for a moment. He seemed very hesitant to tell her that, almost as if he was holding something back, and Rory had seen it in his eyes. His face was calm and almost blank, but his sapphire eyes gave him away and she had seen a tiny glimpse of all his pain and sadness. Rory's heart broke at the thought of him being one of those people with a bad story. She wanted to ask more than anything but she knew it would be rude, and probably painful for him, and she didn't want to scare him away.   
  
"Yeah, I guess you're right. But I'm a big believer in sharing everything. Good stories and bad stories, but you've got to find someone you can trust. Otherwise, it gets to hard to deal sometimes." She remembered how right after Dean died her mom had been there for her. Rory didn't think she would have made it without her. But the whole purpose of her answer was to try and tell him that he could talk to her if he needed to, she wanted him to know that she would be there for him anytime, but something told her that he wouldn't allow himself to open up.  
  
Tristan knew, he knew more than anyone just how hard it was to deal sometimes. Although his solitary, lone way of dealing with his fear and sorrow was familiar to him, the idea of sharing it with someone was completely foreign.   
  
Tristan could remember coming back from his first day in grade three. He had been so excited and was overflowing with exciting stories about his day, but no one had cared. His father had been in his study and Tristan was told to never disturb his father when he was inside working. Looking back, Tristan had realized that much more than work went on in that room. His mother, with the glass of brandy that was always glued to her hand, nodded her head at intervals and, as soon as the last word was out of his mouth, turned to the maid and instructed her to put Tristan to bed that night because she was attending a "social function". Tristan had never understood his mother's reason for saying that, after all his mother had never tucked him in, it had always been the job of one of the maids. Never once in his whole life, except from his grandfather on the rare occasion that he saw him, was Tristan ever kissed or told that he was loved before he was sent to bed.   
  
"Do you have anyone like that?" He had only known her for a couple of minutes, but he had already decided that out of all the people he had met, Rory was the most deserving of a comfortable life surrounded by many people that she loved and trusted. Some people, like himself, were just never meant to have that.   
  
"Yes." Good, he was glad. "My mom. She's great and really weird in a spunky, energetic way, but I love her. She passed most of her wierdness on to me, though I don't know if that's good or bad."   
  
Upon witnessing her babbling, Tristan laughed for the first time in a long time. "You're not weird, at least, not in a bad way. It's a good thing though, trust me. Your mother sounds very interesting, what's she like?"  
  
"Well, she has this insane obsession for coffee, as do I. Seriously, beware. I'm being completely honest with you when I say that we can't live without it - we've practically built a religion around it! I mean, don't even talk to us in the morning before we have at least three cups, because if you do, you are signing your own death wish. Let's see, there's so much more, what's next? She runs an inn, talks to herself constantly, and has this terrible habit of speaking without thinking first. It gets her into a lot of trouble, but it's even more funny to watch her confuse a person, thus getting herself out of said trouble. If there was a Whack Job of the Year Award she'd win it - and be proud of herself, too! Her three favourite men are Luke, Willy, and Forest, she thinks that Barbara Striesand stole her chance at being famous, and she believe that Michael Jackson is actually an alien in human form who is here to spy and get information so he can call his troops in for the 'Unlimate Annihilation Showdown'." Rory finally stopped to breathe and, strangely, didn't feel the least bit embarrassed.   
  
She watched as Tristan let his laughter escaped and decided that she wanted to see him laugh more often - and she wanted to be the reason for it, too. He looked so much younger and carefree, it really lit up his whole face and he looked even cuter, if that was possible. That simple action had an amazing affect on his eyes, as well; for a moment the bright playfulness held back the tidal waves of pain and sorrow that she knew would soon return. Eventually, his laughter subsided but a charming, lingering smile hung on his lips as he replied.   
  
"Wow. She sounds like quite a character." Just like Rory. He had seen how her eyes had lit up and how her movements had become free and animated. He had seen it, and fallen in love with it. 'Love? Whoa, slow it down DuGrey. Don't set yourself up for heartbreak...'  
  
Tristan ran his hand through his hair, a nervous habit, and spoke again, trying to get his mind off what he had just admitted to himself. "But I'm confused. Who's Luke, Willy, and Forest?"  
  
Rory let her face drop into a look of mock shock and let out a loud gasp. "Blasphemer!!! My mother would have you hanged by your toes! How could you ask such a question, you ignorant fool? Off with his head!" Rory pointed an accusatory finger at him and Tristan roared with laughter at her performance.   
  
Suddenly they realized that the café had become very quiet. They looked up to see everybody watching and giving them incredulous, disapproving looks. They both blushed furiously at their behaviour and looked everywhere but at each other.   
  
For Tristan it was worse, he could feel the crowd's displeasure and scrutiny but he brushed it off. But there was something else. He could feel extreme rage pouring off someone in the crowd, so strong that it gave him a headache, and it was directed at him.   
  
Tristan turned in his chair and anxiously searched the crowd, desperately trying to figure out who could possibly have such a strong hatred for him.   
  
Meanwhile, Rory was lost in her own reverie, thinking about this mysterious man. She was so deep in thought that she didn't notice Tristan's frantic searching. He was so gentle, and handsome, and easy to get along with. It was like she had found her dream guy, and in a coffee shop, no less. How perfect was that. Rory took a deep breath before admitting it to herself. 'I like him'.   
  
SMASH!  
  
Tristan spun in the other direction, along with most of the crowd, seeking the reason for the loud shattering noise. He heard the crowd gasp but he was too deep in thought.   
  
He saw them now, the ghosts, they were everywhere. One was leaning nonchalantly against the counter, her hand stirring a cup of coffee that wasn't even there. Another was leaning against the telephones and Tristan could feel that he was frustrated, frustrated because none of the pretty girls seemed to notice him. And there was one more, the guy from before, the one who had been standing behind Rory.   
  
Over the course of their conversation, the ghost had disappeared, he must be strong if he had that capability, and Tristan had completely forgotten about him. But he was standing behind the counter now, his arm out, palm facing Tristan. It was then that Tristan realized that that noise was a mug shattering into a thousand tiny pieces as it sailed over his shoulder, narrowly missing his head, and smacked into the window.   
  
Tristan sat there as shocked as everyone else, but for a very different reason. This ghost must have realized that he was dead, which meant he wasn't wandering the streets wondering why he could bump into someone and that person wouldn't even notice. That means he had unfinished business, something having to do with Rory, and, judging by the show he had just given, he had power.   
  
Telekinesis.   
  
His reason for doing something as dangerous as what he had just done was something Tristan could only guess. The spirit was mad, mad at Tristan for speaking to Rory. But what Tristan couldn't understand was why now? He had been talking and laughing with Rory for several minutes, but the ghost's fury had exploded when neither one of them was looking at or speaking to the other.   
  
Suddenly, it dawned on Tristan. This ghost could read minds; something one of them had thought angered him to the point of making a public display of his powers. He wanted Tristan to know that he was more powerful. It was a challenge. A challenge that Tristan knew he had no chance of winning.   
  
Obviously, this spirit had deep feelings for Rory and Tristan was confidant that if he were to leave, everybody else would be safe. He had to back down, let him now that he was winning. For now, that is.  
  
"My God! What was that?" Rory whispered, staring at the ceramic shards behind Tristan's chair.   
  
"I don't know. Listen, Rory, I have to go." She just nodded, staring up at him with wide, beautiful eyes, and Tristan knew she was still in shock. He really did have to go. This spirit's animosity towards him was beginning to make him feel sick, but he felt terrible leaving her. He knew that she'd be safe though. This spirit would never let anyone harm her and it, Tristan was sure, would never hurt her himself.   
  
He pushed his chair pack and stood to leave, as many other customers were doing. But he was worried; worried that he would never see her again. He picked up the novel she had lent him, holding to close to his chest, and readied himself to be bold.   
  
"Can I see you again?" He looked at her, gently and expectantly, and she stared back now truly shocked.   
  
"Um, yeah..." She yanked a pen out of her purse and, standing up, took her book back from him. She flipped over the inside cover and scrawled her name and phone number down. Closing it quickly, she handed it back to him and their hands brushed as he took it from her. They both froze at the spark they felt between their hands and their gazed locked, surprised and overjoyed.   
  
Forcefully, Tristan pulled his hand and his eyes away from hers. "I'll see you soon, Rory."  
  
"Goodbye, Tristan," was her quiet reply. He stared at her for a second longer, savouring the gentle smile one her face, then turned and walked out of the café.   
  
He glanced inside the book and smiled happily at what he saw there:  
  
'Rory Gilmore  
  
555-1046'  
  
Rory Gilmore, the first girl he had ever felt this way about. And she had given him her number, hoping to meet with him soon. He grinned as he hurried on his way, pushing all thoughts of fear and floppy-haired ghosts out of his head.   
  
'Sorry, Floppy, but I am not giving up on this girl', Tristan thought to himself. He could still feel the electricity coursing through him from that slight touch of her hand. She was special, and he wouldn't just let that ghost follow her everywhere. He would save her and, in doing so, hopefully save himself.   
  
'Come on, Floppy. Bring it on.' 


	4. Insomnia

A/N: Alrighty my fellow trories!!!!!! Here's the fourth installment!! Guess what? EXAMS ARE OVER!!! AND I'M STILL ALIIIIIVEEE!!! Wo, sorry I just needed to get that off my chest ;) This chapter's dedicated to my cousin, Alyssa, who's graduating tonight! I luv ya hun!!!  
  
Special thanks to all you crazy cats! You're the reason why I'm posting all this! Add I noticed that a lot of you guys wised me good luck on my exams! It was so touching! Thank you so much! This one's for all of you too...  
  
Chapter 4:  
  
Insomnia  
  
Two days had past; two days since that fateful meeting in the coffee house. For Rory those days were full of assignments, crazy phone calls from her mother, and anticipation. Anticipation of hearing from Tristan.  
  
Two days and he still hadn't called, and she was worried that he never would. What if she hadn't said the right things? What if he had found someone else?   
  
When she thought about it, Rory had to admit that Tristan didn't seem like the kind of guy who went around collecting phone numbers so that he could keep girls on the back burner just in case his current relationship didn't work out. She smiled just thinking about his quiet, gentle nature and his shy smile. No, he would never do that, she was sure.   
  
Even with that comforting thought, Rory couldn't help but think that she'd done something wrong. After that whole incident with the mug, Rory had sat there staring with her mouth hanging open. How repulsive was that?   
  
She had lingered in the café for a few minutes after Tristan had left and helped Joe, the nice old Italian man who worked behind the counter, clean up the shards of broken glass. She couldn't understand how the accident had happened. Rory reasoned with herself, trying to believe that it was the wind, but she wasn't quite sure. She had bent down to pick up the large shards of glass so that Joe could sweep up the rest and as soon as her fingers cautiously wrapped around the pieces, she felt an eerie chill creep up her spine and found herself looking around the café. She was searching for something; something, but she wasn't quite sure what.   
  
Lately, she'd been getting that feeling a lot. When she was alone in her apartment, which was most of the time, she couldn't help but feel eyes on her and she couldn't ignore that cold feeling that made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She kept thinking about that movie, "The Sixth Sense", where that kid said that when it gets cold, it's a sign that ghosts are present.   
  
'Ghosts! Yeah, ok, Rory, you've really got it together.' Rory chided herself; she knew how insane it sounded but there were many times when she looked for something without success only to find it turn up in a different spot days later.  
  
She had wanted to ask her roommate if she'd had any of the same experiences but Rory was pretty sure that Chelsea wouldn't go for that one. There were many times that Rory would call her mom to explain, only to chicken out and hang up or switch to a new topic.   
  
She had asked Joe once; it was the day that she met Tristan, just a couple minutes before he had walked in. Rory had forgotten, but she remembered now, she had just walked up to him and said, "Joe, do you believe in ghosts?"  
  
She didn't elaborate; she didn't need to. Joe was a wise, sweet old man and he wouldn't make her say anything she didn't want to. He studied her for a minute; his deep, intelligent eyes assessing her face and Rory struggled to stay still. But then, his tanned old face crinkled into a smile.   
  
"You know what I believe?" He said. "I believe that there are many powers at work in this world, some good, some bad. But do you know what the strongest one is, bella?"  
  
Rory could only shake her head, awed and incredibly interested by what he was saying to her.  
  
"Amore." Love.  
  
"My mama once told me that it is everywhere, if you look hard enough. And anyone can find it. Just keep your mind and your heart open, and Signora Amore will do the rest."   
  
And Rory felt something stir in her. She knew then that things were about to get interesting.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Tristan was exhausted and had been for two days now. There never seemed to be a quiet, peaceful moment in his life. After he left the café that day, he had turned down an alley and ended up coming face to face with a spirit. He was probably around 26 when he died and his nose looked like it had been broken more than once, giving him a tough guy appearance. He suppressed an irritated groan when he saw the glare the young, no-longer-living guy had given him. Two angry ghosts in half an hour, his good fortune, if he'd ever had any, had definitely run out.   
  
The 'guy' pushed him back against the wall and Tristan knew that this one was also powerful and, like Floppy, he was dripping with disdain. But for this one, his anger would be his downfall. The one back at the café knew how to control and direct his anger and power, this one wasn't being careful enough.   
  
"I heard you were different; that you could do things for us. Funny, you don't seem like much." Tristan once again stifled the urge to roll his eyes. It was true that he had a reputation in the spirit plane, but that didn't mean that he was respected or shown any sympathy.   
  
And who was this guy to put him down? Tristan was honestly fed up with this whole mediator thing, but he knew that there was no way to escape it. More than anything, he just wanted to be normal. But he decided to ignore the comment and, with a tired sigh, responded, "What is it that you want?"  
  
"I want you to deliver a message for me." He replied, his voice low and his green eyes full of impatience, anger, and mischief - a bad combination.   
  
"Really? 'Cause I thought you wanted to buy me a cup of tea or something." Tristan couldn't stop the exasperation from leaking into his voice. All he wanted was to go home and sleep for a day. Was that too much to ask?  
  
Apparently, yes. It didn't really matter anyway, Tristan had a severe case of insomnia; he could never sleep. The energy in his apartment was just too powerful. That's all ghosts are, energy. It sounds harmless but once they learn to harness and control that energy that's when they get dangerous. He was always jittery and could never succumb to the peacful world of sleep. He had a habit of jogging in the middle of the night in an attempt to tire himself out enough to the point were he couldn't stay awake but, though it sounded like a good plan, it never worked.   
  
The ghost, who was probably five or six years older than Tristan when he died, as well as a hundred pounds of muscle heavier, well, that plus the added superhuman power, grabbed him by the collar and slammed him back against the wall. Great, not only had he pissed off Popeye here, but now his head was spinning faster than a ceiling fan.   
  
"Don't get smart with me, kid. Either you do it, or face the consequences." If Tristan wasn't in his position, he would have laughed at that. This ghost, who Tristan was guessing was pretty new to the whole Death Zone experience, was giving Tristan the ultimatum. Tristan was perfectly aware of what the spirit could do to him but he was pretty sure he had a lump the size of an apple on the back of his head and he was just too tired to care. Luckily, his will to survive till his next birthday and his common sense quickly humbled him.   
  
"What can I do for you?" He grunted. The ghost seemed to have forgotten that he still had his hands wrapped up in Tristan's shirt and that his fists were practically trying to borrow into his throat. Tristan was finding it hard to breathe.   
  
The ghost smiled and loosened his grip a little. "That's more like it, kid. Glad you see things my way."   
  
Tristan could feel his satisfaction at overpowering him, but he kept his annoyance in check. He might as well deliver the message willingly so that he could go home and rest.   
  
He realized that the ghost had thrown his arm over Tristan's shoulder as if they were best buddies and had started leading them down the alley. "You see, I know this guy, John..."  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
"Get outta here, kid. If you come back again, don't expect to get out alive."  
  
Tristan landed with a soft thump and the door slammed shut behind him. He saw the spirit, Tony was his name, simply laugh and saunter away and he sighed in frustration.   
  
A message! Yeah, sure. Tristan had to tell John that his daughter and Tony had...gotten to know each other really well last Friday before John had him killed. He had no other choice really, Tony had stood behind him with his hand on his shoulder as he sat and fidgeted uncomfortably. John didn't buy Tristan's explanation about being able to speak to the dead, but that did stop the vein in his forehead from looking like it was about to explode. Suddenly, a big, beefy fist, belonging to one of John's big, beefy henchmen, collided with Tristan's face and John thundered:  
  
"Did you hear that from Maria?! I swear if that woman stops gossiping for one second she'll die! Get him outta here," he ordered his men, "and you better not spread that around or I'll hunt you down!"   
  
Dazed and confused, before he knew it, two pairs of hands were hauling him off the floor and, with another punch to his stomach for good measure, threw him out the door.   
  
Tristan groaned in pain and picked himself off the ground, hearing a ghostly laugh fade off into the night. 'I'm glad you thought that was funny, Tony. Anytime you or your friends need a laugh or a punching bag, I'm always available.'   
  
~~~~~  
  
He had eventually made his way home to his tiny apartment in a run down part of town. It was small, but it was all he could afford. Flopping onto his couch lying with his head on an ice pack and another on his cheek, he thought about how ironic it all was. Tristan DuGrey, former King of Chilton, the guy who every guy wanted to be and every girl wanted to be with. He had everything money could buy and he loved it. He was a cocky player, or at least that was the front he put on.   
  
And now, he had been reduced to nothing. Animals wouldn't even stay with him. He had found a cat in an alley once and he felt sorry for the poor thing, recognizing a bit of himself in that worn, lonely survivor. He had brought it home but the spirits that frequented and 'dropped by' his apartment had been too much for Sammy. Animals were like him; they had higher sensory levels than the average human and could see ghosts but the only difference was that while they could get away, he was stuck with them. Sammy stuck around for a day or two but, just like everyone else in his life, ended up leaving him. Now, he was just a lonely guy with a terrible secret; a secret that forced him to live a separate, solitary life.   
  
In high school, he had never once had a serious relationship because he didn't know how. He didn't know how to show someone that he cared and there was this little voice in the back of his mind telling him that no one would be interested in what he had to say and that he would only get hurt.   
  
But he was hurting anyway. There had never been any love, support, or encouragement in his house, only bickering, cheating, and hatred. He'd never understood love; never seen it, but you can't miss what you don't have, right? It can't hurt you. Actually it did hurt, it hurt a lot, but what hurt even more was when he saw love and realized what he had been missing out on. He had seen it sometimes when he delivered messages from ghosts to people they cherished, messages of love that was strong enough to survive death.   
  
Getting up from the couch and making his way toward the bedroom, Tristan thought about how much he wanted someone to love him. Suddenly, he surged forward and his heart skipped a beat. Then he realized that a ghostly presence hadn't pushed him, but that he was just being his normal, clumsy self and had tripped over a book. Bending over to pick it up Tristan read the title and, yet again, his heart skipped a beat.   
  
"Pride and Prejudice."  
  
It was Rory's book. But how did it get here? He could have sworn he placed it on the counter. . .   
  
A light giggle drifted to his ears but he couldn't tell where it came from, it seemed to be all around him.   
  
'Mary.'  
  
She was a little girl of about seven, or had been at one point. She wore a white dress that Tristan guessed was from the 19th century but it was perpetually clean and billowed around her when she spun. Her hair was a mass of coffee coloured curls and she had beautiful dancing blue eyes that were always alive with laughter and mischief. She came and went, playing tricks on him and moving things about. She loved pulling on his shirt and disappearing before he turned around and tugging on his hair and waking him up on when he actually succeeded in falling asleep.   
  
Tristan didn't mind having her around; he enjoyed her company actually. He didn't think of her as a ghost that haunted him; to him she was a bright spirit that visited him and brought him comfort.   
  
He didn't know how she died because she never spoke to him, only giggled. He didn't know why, if she was such a happy spirit, she was stuck on this plane. He was guessing that her family's house had been on the grounds where the apartment buildings now stood and that she had died young. The happiest moments of her life probably happened here and she was too attached to leave.   
  
He opened the book and the pages fluttered for several seconds.   
  
"I'll call her, Mary. I promise I'll call her. Tomorrow."   
  
~~~~~~~  
  
There ya go! I hope you guys liked it! The next chapter's coming up and I promise it'll be Trory-packed (instead of action-packed! Get it? LOL! Yeesh, what a bad joke...) Feel free to pay that little lonely review button a visit! Until next time...  
  
Madz 


	5. Pandora's Box

A/N: Hey there! You came back! Here's the 5th and final piece...for now! Jks, did you guys seriously think that I'd end it here?!?! No way, it's just beginning!!!!  
  
To Lindsay: I know you're a little confused. This is how it goes: Everybody listen up! As a small kid (keyword: small), Tristan was introverted and shy because he was neglected & he saw ghosts (he never told anyone about the spirits). As he got older, he realized he couldn't make his parents love him and the ghosts would never leave him alone. That's when he started getting reckless and cocky and putting up the façade b/c he didn't want anyone to know. Before his 18th b-day things started getting worse: instead of just being able to see ghosts, now they could touch him & speak to him & move things. The problem was getting worse & he knew there was no one he could turn to so he ran away.   
  
There we go. If it's still not totally clear 4 anyone, just ask and I'll give a more detailed explanation. Enjoy this!  
  
Chapter 5:   
  
Pandora's Box   
  
  
  
Ring! Ring!  
  
Rory shot up from her chair and disorientation flooded her mind as she tried to remember where she was. Slowly, she realized that she had fallen asleep at her desk and that the annoying thing that wouldn't shut up was the phone ringing.   
  
She followed the high pitched shrill and found the cordless under the sofa. "So that's where you were hiding", she muttered as she fumbled for the 'Talk' button.   
  
"Hello?"   
  
There was a moment of silence and then:  
  
"Rory?"  
  
"Yeah, this is she." She was confused, she knew she had heard that voice before but she couldn't place it.  
  
"Hi, it's Tristan. Maybe you don't remember me...?" On the other end of the line Tristan was panicking. It had only been two days since they first met and it seemed like she couldn't even remember who he was. He had planned on waiting for the bruise on his face to fade a bit before he got up the courage to call her but he guessed he had waited too long. He tried to ignore the terrible feeling of his hope dying.   
  
"Tristan?" It's not that she didn't remember him, she was just shocked that he called. She thought he had forgotten about her.  
  
"It's OK, don't worry about it. I'm sorry to bother you..."   
  
He was hanging up! 'No, stop him Rory!'   
  
"Wait! Don't hang up! I remember you, of course I remember you!"   
  
Tristan hope must have been revitalized because it was currently racing and thumping crazily in his chest. He felt a blush creep up his cheeks and mentally yelled at himself. He didn't get it: He interacted with the dead everyday of his life but he was too scared to have a conversation with a girl! 'Women...'  
  
"Still there?" Rory asked hesitantly.   
  
"Oh yeah! I'm sorry...I... um..." Rory laughed as she listened to him stammer and imagined him turning six different shades of red.  
  
"Well...I was...um, how are you?" The question popped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. 'You're an idiot, DuGrey, ya hear me? An idiot!'  
  
Rory struggled to keep from laughing. She thought it was so adorable but she knew that if she let her laughter escape he'd only feel more self-conscious. She was happy, though. Knowing that he was just as nervous as her, maybe even more so, made her feel completely excited and comfortable.   
  
"I'm great, thank you. How are you?"  
  
"I'm good, thanks." Tristan could hear the smile in her voice and if he had sounded like an idiot before, it was all worth while.   
  
"That's good."  
  
"Yes, good. Good, good, good..." Tristan was well aware that with every word that was coming out of his mouth he sounded more and more like an imbecile, but he was too scared to ask her the question he had called to ask.  
  
"Yes, good's always good."   
  
"Exactly." They both felt like fools but Tristan decided to put his heart on the line and ask her. "Rory, there's this place- it's called 'Pandora's Box' - it's kind of like a bar, kind of...they play music and you can dance and - here's the part I'm hoping will convince you - they have awesome coffee... It's got a cool feel to it, just a laid back place where people hang out and talk and... well,..."  
  
"Yes, Tristan?" Rory was practically falling of her chair she was so happy. She knew what was coming, he was about to ask her out.  
  
"Sorry, um, ...well..." Taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes, Tristan let it fly. "Well, what I'm trying to say is... would you like to go there...tonight... with me?"  
  
Rory's smiled went from ear to ear as she heard his flustered question.  
  
"Tristan, I-"  
  
"But it's okay if you don't want to."  
  
"No, Tristan -"  
  
"Or if you're too busy with school."  
  
"Tristan! Yes, I would love to go to 'Pandora's Box' with you tonight."  
  
Her answer was met by silence. Tristan was struggling to breathe. She said yes! She said yes! He couldn't believe it and he had to take a second to pinch himself. Hard.  
  
"Oww!" Yup, this was real.  
  
"Tristan? Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah, sorry! Great, thank you. Um, do you want to meet there or go together?"  
  
"Meeting there sounds good, I've got to drop something of at the library anyway. What time?" Rory's heart was racing and she resisted the urge to do her happy dance.  
  
"Does seven-thirty sound good?"  
  
"Seven-thirty sounds great." He gave her the directions and she jotted them down on a piece of paper.   
  
"Okay, so I'll see you there, Rory."  
  
"I can't wait. Bye, Tristan."  
  
"Goodbye." Tristan set the phone on its cradle and flopped back onto the couch. He had asked her and she said yes. He got up again and raced out the door. He had to go for a jog; he just couldn't sit still.  
  
Rory clicked off the phone and dropped it on the floor, watching happily as it rolled right back under the couch. 'Better remember that for future reference.' She couldn't believe that she had a date with Tristan in 2 hours.   
  
"I have to call Mom." She mumbled, dropping to her hands and knees and digging for the phone. Dialing the familiar number, she waited until the ninth ring before someone picked up. Like mother, like daughter.   
  
"Ha! I've found you, you despicable electronic!" She heard her mother shout triumphantly. "Hello, City Morgue. You stab 'em, We slab 'em!"  
  
"Hey, Mom! You'll never guess what happened!" Rory giggled and launched into her story. Three breaths and ten minutes later she finished.  
  
"Well?" Lorelai asked expectantly.  
  
"Well what?" Rory asked, confused.  
  
"What are you waiting for?! Let the happy dancing begin!"  
  
~~~~~~  
  
'Here it is,' Tristan thought nervously, 'the moment of truth.' He had arrived at Pandora's ten minutes before he told Rory to meet him there; he knew he was early but he just couldn't stay in his apartment any longer. He smiled as he remembered Mary's persistent tugging on his sleeve and her triumphant giggle when he finally rose to leave.   
  
He had opened the door and said over his shoulder, "If it goes well I'll be back before twelve, Mary. Don't wait up, okay?" The only response he received was the bright twinkle in her eyes, but for him it was enough. He could feel that she was excited for him and he was thankful to have her support but he was so nervous that he didn't think his legs would carry him the two blocks to Pandora's.   
  
But here he was. He was alive and in one piece, or at least he was physically. His mind and emotions, on the other hand, were pulling in a hundred different directions. He was excited, never before in his life had he been so excited. He couldn't wait to see her, to hear her voice, and make her laugh but he was still terrified beyond belief.  
  
What if she didn't like him? What if he said something profoundly stupid? The most terrifying of all his fears was the hardest one to avoid: what if she discovered his horrible secret?   
  
He didn't want to lose her but he hated the fact that he would have to lie to her to keep her. He couldn't stand the thought of every other word coming out of his mouth being a lie. She was such an honest person and she deserved so much better than that. It was one or the other; he had to decide.   
  
He pushed the painful thoughts out of his head and glanced around the place that he thought of as his second home. The lights were dimmed, casting a soft, warm orange glow around the room. There was a small, currently empty stage where bands sometimes played and there were small tables and worn couches spread throughout the room. Some alternative rock band's music filtered out through the sound system at a loud, but not-overpowering, level, allowing customers to talk and unwind. The setting was intimate, yet homey, and Tristan often came her to just sip on some coffee and let his thoughts drift away in the soft guitar riffs and companionable atmosphere.   
  
He had his own six string at home and, though he didn't think he was good enough, he daydreamed about going up on stage on Open Mic Night and playing a couple of the songs he had written. Write now though, he didn't have the talent and he was sorely lacking the courage.   
  
He scanned the room, noticing that Rory hadn't arrived yet, and picked out a place for them to sit. As he walked to the spot he passed a mirror and paused to examine his reflection. In high school, he had thought of himself as an extremely handsome guy but now, he just didn't see it. He guessed that he looked the same, though a bit older, but he just couldn't look at himself the same way. His eyes looked a bit darker, maybe even wiser, he still had his father's strong chin and his mother's full lips, but instead of the cocky, satisfies smirk his face usually held a cautious, tense expression.   
  
He moved on his way, almost disgusted by the weary, tired man he saw in his reflection, the one who looked as if all the troubles in the world we piled up on his shoulders.   
  
He sat down in one of the two comfy chairs set on either side of a small round table. She would be here soon, he could feel it. He wiped his sweating palms on his pants and took a deep breath. Tonight he was going to try to forget about all of his worries, even if it was just for a while. Tonight he was going to be with a beautiful girl and savour the short time he had with her. Tonight would be magical.   
  
~~~~~~~   
  
Rory glanced at the sign over her head. 'Pandora's Box'. She had dropped some books off at the library nearby and made it with a few minutes to spare. She had been excited about the date for the whole time she was getting ready but now the nervousness was kicking in.  
  
Her roommate had told Rory that she was moving in with her boyfriend and had already started moving out her stuff. Rory and Chelsea had never been really good friends, but Rory would miss having her around. What's more, Rory didn't want to be left alone in the apartment.   
  
As she pulled open the door and strolled in, Rory remembered being alone in her room while she was getting dressed. There was a weird, almost... energized feeling in the room, which she tried to shrug off, but she could have sworn she heard someone in the kitchen.   
  
'Hey Chelsea, you're back, thank God. You left your student I.D. in the bathroom and I need a little advice on which top to wear.' Rory had begun speaking before she reached the kitchen and, when she did, she realized that no one was there. She had stood there shocked and scared for several seconds and then, feeling eyes on the back of her neck, she turned to find and empty living room. Rory quickly threw on a shirt, grabbed her purse and her library books and fled the building.   
  
And now here she was, a little shaken, but nonetheless, in one piece. She pushed those thoughts out of her head and surveyed the room. She could smell that sweet aroma drifting over to her from behind the counter, gentle music permeated the room, and handing fixtures cast a soft, warm glow over the room. She definitely liked it here.   
  
Looking around a bit more, she spotted Tristan sitting in a couch on one side of a table and the vacant chair across from him. He was looking down at his hands and was twirling a silver ring around the finger on his left hand; something Rory assumed was a nervous habit. She smiled and headed towards him, her heals clicking on the floor, and he finally glanced up and saw her.  
  
Tristan was pretty sure that he was experiencing cardiac arrest, or at least something close to it. Rory Gilmore, the most beautiful, sweetest woman he had ever met was smiling brightly and confidently heading towards him. Her hair was flowing down her back in gentle waves, her bright, rosy cheeks accented her creamy, smooth skin, and, in black pants and a simple red shirt, she was the most stunning creature he'd ever seen.   
  
Rory saw his gazed locked on her and hid a laugh as he snapped out of his examination, blushing furiously as he stood up and pulled out her chair for her. He had neat, black pants and a blue shirt that brought out his eyes and made them an even brighter shade of sapphire. His blonde hair stuck out in an adorable tousled mess and Rory blushed as she noticed how his shirt revealed his muscled chest and stomach as he stood and moved to greet her.   
  
"Hello, Tristan." Rory seated herself, noticing how Tristan waited for her to do so before he returned to his chair.   
  
"Hi, Rory. You made it okay?" He was speaking softly and was avoiding looking her in the eyes. Rory decided to put them both at ease by cracking a little joke.   
  
"Yeah, just fine. I lost the directions you gave me and was just about to resort to hitch-hiking the full two blocks, but luckily, I found them on the fridge, right where I left them."  
  
Tristan chuckled softly and was about to reply when the waitress walked up and introduced herself. Rory noticed Tristan smile behind his menu as she ordered an extra large coffee and she also noticed the giving Tristan the once-over and flirting with him. Finally, the waitress practically ripped the menus out of their hands and, with a frustrated growl, stalked away.  
  
"She doesn't seem very happy. Maybe she's having a bad day." Tristan comment quietly as she got farther away.   
  
Rory just managed to contain her laughter until after the waitress returned to the bar and Tristan looked shocked as she shouted with glee.  
  
"What's so funny?" Confused, he began looking around for something remotely funny but when he couldn't figure it out he turned back to her.  
  
Rory couldn't manage to answer. Tristan had been completely oblivious to the whole thing! The waitress had suggested, in a lowered, seductive tone, the Chocolate Amaretto coffee. Her finger lingered on the menu as she said in a breathy tone, "It's my favourite." Tristan, on the other hand, was completely focused on the menu and it contents and had relpied, without looking at her, "No thanks, I don't like amaretto. I think I'll go for the Vanilla Bean Latte."   
  
The waitress was angry because he didn't respond to any of her flirtations and what does he say? "Maybe she's having a bad day." It was too funny.   
  
"Rory?" She could tell he was beginning to feel even more self-conscious so she explained it to him. By the time she was done, she had tears trickling down her face but Tristan still looked confused.   
  
"No, I think you've got it wrong, Rory."  
  
"No way, Tristan. She was practically drooling on your shoulder." This sent her into another fit of giggles and Tristan just stared at his feet, embarrassed.   
  
Rory finally calmed down and, realizing that he was feeling uncomfortable and that he was as red as her shirt, she changed the subject.  
  
"Sorry. So, 'Pandora's Box'. That's an interesting name."  
  
Tristan seemed to recover from his embarrassment because he leaned forward in his seat; obviously interested in the way the conversation was going.  
  
"Do you know the story behind it?" Rory shook her head, she had never heard of it before, and he launched into his story.  
  
A Greek myth told the tale of how when the Earth was young there were two children, Epimetheus and Pandora, neither of which had parents. Parents weren't needed to take care of children because there were no dangers or troubles in the world; people never fought or had to suffer through any labour. They were simply merry children all their lives. Pandora was sent to live with Epimetheus and the first thing she noticed when she arrived at his cottage was a great box. Epimetheus told the curious girl that he didn't know what was in the box, but it was there to be kept safe and must never be opened. Pandora was bothered by the great, beautiful box and discovered that the same man, Quicksilver, who brought her there brought Epimetheus the box. The box was fastened by an intricate knot which she untied and, as she decided to open the box and Epimetheus joined her, a black cloud blocked out the Sun. As she lifted the lid and he watched, all the Troubles of the world, sickness, sorrow, anger, and evil passions, flew out and remained with us for all this time.   
  
"That's very interesting. So, that's the Greek's version of how everything bad in our world came to exist." Rory commented. It really was something to think about.  
  
"Kind of. It's a story about how the sin of two people will punish us all. It's like the story of Adam and Eve. But there's more to it. They were sorry and angry and stayed hidden in the cottage, but they heard a tap from inside the box. Reluctantly, they opened it and another creature flew out-"   
  
"What was it?" Rory knew she was interrupting, but she was fascinated by the tale. Tristan smiled and continued.  
  
"It was Hope. She was there to protect and save us from the Troubles in the world. They told her that her wings looked like a rainbow and she said that that was because she was made up of both tears and smiles." Tristan voice was deep, soft, and soothing and Rory noticed a look of longing in his eyes, almost as if he were longing for hope. "She said she'd be there as long as they needed her, which would be for their whole lives; she promised that she'd never leave them and she didn't."  
  
"That's a beautiful story, Tristan." Rory whispered quietly, still caught up in the story.   
  
"Thank you, Rory." But he wasn't thanking her for liking it, or even listening to it. He had realized something while he told the story. His live had been full of Troubles, they swarmed him everyday and night, and like Pandora and Epimetheus after they opened the box, he was tired, full or sorrow, and searching for something to get him through. Amazingly, just like those two contrite children, he had found it. He had found his Hope.   
  
~~~~~~~  
  
There it is guys! I hoped you liked it! In the next chapter Rory will arrive and we'll see just how their magical evening will turn out! (Dadadaaaaa!!!!) Reviews are greatly appreciated!   
  
(By the way, does anyone know how to get italics to show up b/c I have microsoft word but it won't let me use italics!!!!!!! ;( )  
  
*In my best male ditz surfer voice* Like, later dudes,  
  
Luv Madz 


	6. Iris

Here it is my lovelies! I wanted this one to start off on a lighter note since it ends up being more serious from the middle on. I hope you like it, I'm quite satisfied with how it turned out (if I do say so myself)!!! 

By the way, the songs mentioned here are Gloria Gaynor's _"I Will Survive" _and Goo Goo Dolls' _"Iris". I do not own them or anything pertaining to Gilmore Girls. _

Special thanks to **jayde** and **LizDarcy **for the tips on how to get italics! I owe you one! 

Enjoy!

Chapter 6:

__

Iris

"I don't believe you!" Rory shouted, torn between questioning his honesty and laughing until she cried.

"I'm serious!" Tristan's face was aglow with a bright, sheepish smile and flushed cheeks. He couldn't believe it but he had just admitted one of his deepest, darkest secrets to Rory. "Gloria Gaynor's _'I Will Survive'_ was my all-time favourite song when I was seven."

They had been having a very interesting, in-depth conversation about music when Tristan, without realizing it, admitted to being a huge Gloria Gaynor fan when he was little. As soon as it was out of his mouth he prayed to God that he could take it back but Rory had already been lost to her laughter and, for once, he allowed himself to succumb to the urge to let go for a while and found himself elaborating. _In for a penny, in for a pound._

"God, I would pay to see you up on that stage in platforms and bellbottoms performing an amazing rendition of that song." Rory struggled to stop laughing at the mental image and, amazingly, succeeding in calming herself. 

Tristan smiled. Her happiness was contagious; he was certain that nobody cold keep a straight face around her and he felt his own spirits lift a little. He thought about her gorgeous smile and her enchanting eyes while drumming his fingers on the table subconsciously. He loved the way that she would laugh at anything, never criticizing him for saying something that most people would call stupid. She was brilliant, beautiful, and unique and Tristan found himself loving everything about her. 

Rory was also admiring the person who sat before her; he was quiet and shy, yet incredibly funny and sweet. There was no denying that he was handsome, but there was something about his intense gaze and his comforting voice that captivated her far more than physical attraction did. They had been speaking for about half an hour and the conversation was kept light and for the most part impersonal, but Rory found herself aching to know something personal about him. She knew that he had a private nature and she didn't want to question him and make him uncomfortable so she found herself instead examining his broad shoulders, his lean frame, and his long, strong arms. _'I wonder what it would be like to be in those arms,' _she thought to herself and this time she didn't scold herself for it. Her examination continued down to his hands, they were wide and rough with the long slender fingers of a musician. Rory was about to ask him if he played an instrument when she noticed a plain silver ring on the middle finger of his left hand. 

"Where did you get that?" She asked, motioning to the piece of jewelry; like Tristan, it looked like it had been through a lot. 

Tristan's fingers stopped drumming at the sound of her voice and he gazed down at the ring on his finger. It was special to him; in fact, it was the only thing he had kept to remind him of his old life back in Hartford. He glanced back up at her curious face; she wanted to know and he decided to tell her as much of the truth as he could.

"It was my grandmother's wedding band, my grandfather gave it to her when they were married in 1939. I think there used to be a design on it, but I guess it faded away, I don't remember. She died when I was three, I don't really remember her either." Rory watched him closely as he spoke. His eyes took on that sad, far-away look that she had seen the day they first met and his voice was quiet and hesitant. "Many years later when I was about twelve, my grandfather got really sick. He had to stay in his bed and I couldn't see him very often. I missed being able to talk to him."

And he had, more than anything. His grandfather had been the only person he could go to, the only person who gave a damn about him. Losing him had been the hardest thing that Tristan had ever had to go through. He remembered crying in his room during those last few months, that was the only place where he could deal with his grief and he had no choice but to suffer through it alone.

His father wouldn't stand for crying, or any other emotional display, because that showed weakness and William Dugrey was not weak. His mother hadn't even cared, after all, it wasn't her father who was dying. Looking back on everything now, Tristan had never been so disgusted and ashamed by his family's actions.

He was pulled from his reverie when Rory gently placed her hand over his, her skin warming him to the very core. He stared up at her, scared by the sudden contact and the foreign show of compassion.

"You don't have to talk about if you don't want to. It's okay." She nodded at him and he saw kindness, sympathy, and warmth radiating from her cerulean eyes. He stared back, hoping to soak up some of the peace he found staring at him through her gaze. 

"No, I…I would like to talk about it…I think I need to…" She smiled gently, encouraging him to continue but it was so hard to open up. He felt that he could trust her more than anyone in the world, but what if he was wrong? He felt her hand wrap around his tightly and suddenly he felt safe. " It was two months before my eighteenth birthday, I was at home when I got the call. He was in the hospital again but they didn't expect him to make it this time. I went as fast as I could, I really did, but it wasn't good enough." What came next almost broke Rory's heart. "It was my fault, he was alone when he died. He would have made it, I'm sure he would have, but no one was with him. He gave up. But if I had been there, if I had went a bit faster, he would still be alive."

Tristan paused for a moment to pull in a deep, shaky breath. "When I got there the nurse gave me the ring and said that he had wanted me to have it. It's all that I have left of him."

"Tristan, I'm so sorry. I know what it's like to lose someone, but you can't blame yourself, it only make's everything harder." She told him about Dean then and how she had blamed it on herself until very recently. Although she didn't mention it to him, when Tristan came into her life that day in the coffee shop she had realized that she couldn't spend the rest of her life mourning over him. Yes, she would always miss him, and she would always pray for him and his family but there was no way that she could turn back time, no way that they could be together again. 

By the time she had finished, Rory found herself blinking back tears. It was still hard for her to talk about Dean but when Tristan told her about his grandfather he had given her something personal, almost like a piece of himself, and she had to give him something in return.

"I'm sorry, too, Rory." He smiled softly at her and she smiled back. He did it. He had told someone something that he had never shared before with anyone and he was so glad it had been her. She had comforted him and shared her own story and Tristan was thankful that he had taken that risk. He stared down at their joined hands. _It was worth it. _

~~~~~~~~

Rory bit back a laugh as the waitress stalked away for the third time that night. Rory had called her over to order her fourth cup of coffee and both women discreetly kept their eyes on Tristan as he squirmed uncomfortably and avoided both of their gazes. He didn't order another coffee, claiming that he wouldn't be able to sleep, though Rory had a sneaking suspicion that his reason for abstaining from her marvelous elixir was that he was afraid of the waitress. 

Tristan breathed a sigh of relief when the waitress finally walked away and watched in amazement as Rory gulped down the steaming large cup. He had no idea how any body could consume that much coffee and still be healthy but Rory blamed it entirely on her mother. He had heard a lot about the other Lorelai Gilmore and pictured her as a caring, quirky, protective woman who loved her daughter, and coffee, more than life itself. 

"You know how when we first met you said you were crazy?" Tristan questioned, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile.

"Yup." Rory replied with a cheeky grin; anyone who knew her well knew that it was true. 

"I think you were right." They both laughed at that.

"I'll take that as a compliment." 

It was about 9:30 now; their conversation had turned back to a light banter since both parties had been embarrassed, though comforted, by their confessions. Rory had enjoyed herself so far; she loved the simple bar and the close setting, it was perfect. Not to mention the coffee was incredible, almost as good as Luke's. _Mom will love it here. _She was in the middle of picturing her mother begging the fat guy at the counter for a seventh cup of coffee when Tristan startled her by voicing a question that neither one of them thought he would ask.

"Rory, would…would you like to dance?" Tristan honestly had no idea where that had come from. It had been two years since he had danced with someone! Why couldn't he just control his mouth?

Rory looked at him for a second and then smiled. "I'd love to, Tristan."

Tristan almost sighed in release at her answer and stood up to pull back her chair and walk her to the dance floor.

Rory flushed as his kindness and his impeccable manners. She was praying for a slow song, she wasn't any good at dancing to club music, and some greater power must have been listening because just as they reached the floor, a new song began.

Tristan had walked behind her the whole way, fretting and lecturing himself to not step on her feet when the gentle chords of the Goo Goo Doll's "Iris" poured smoothly out of the sound system. He felt himself relax as he gently put one hand on the small of Rory's back and took her hand with the other. 

At that moment, Rory's world consisted of nothing but him. His hesitant hand rested softly on her back and she felt tingles running up and down her spine. When his hand captured hers she blushed furiously and was immensely thankful for the dim lighting. He hesistantly, but ever so delicately, pulled her closer and she leaned in, resting her cheek against his. 

Tristan was in heaven; there was no other way to put it. He felt her warm, smooth skin on his and he closed his eyes, wanting to stay just like this for the rest of his life. 

__

And I'd give up forever to touch you 

'Cause I know that you feel me somehow 

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be 

And I don't want to go home right now 

He knew the song well and he softly sang along, knowing that every word was the complete, honest truth. 

Rory felt him move their joined hands so that hers came to rest over his heart and his covered hers protectively. That's how she felt, protected safe, cherished. She heard his deep voice close to her ear, whispering softly, and she lost herself in all the feeling and honesty emerging from his voice as she closed her eyes, wanting this moment to last forever. 

__

And all I can taste is this moment

And all I can breathe is your life 

And sooner or later it's over 

I just don't want to miss you tonight 

Tristan wanted her to know, more than anything, that he meant everything that he was whispering to her. He had this terrible feeling that this could never work, but stronger than that feeling, he had hope. 

__

And I don't want the world to see me 

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand 

When everything's made to be broken 

I just want you to know who I am 

Rory was caught up in the gentle, steady rhythm of his heartbeat under her hand and the wonderful sense of security that came with being wrapped in his strong arms. She wanted to know him completely, she wanted to know about all his hardships and his dreams, his hopes and fears. And she wanted him to know her entirely, but for now, she was content with just being with him. 

__

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming

Or the moment of truth in your lies 

When everything feels like the movies 

Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive 

Tristan was certain that he didn't deserve to be here, right now, in the arms of an angle. But he didn't care, nothing could take him from her; as long as she needed him, he'd be there. He wanted to be good for her, he wanted to be everything she had ever dreamed of, but the truth of the matter is that he was too afraid to tell her or anyone. He had spent his life hiding from the world, trying to keep the fear, rejection, and disgust at bay. If no one knew, no one could get hurt, he couldn't get hurt, and, most importantly, Rory wouldn't get hurt. 

__

And I don't want the world to see me 

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand 

When everything's made to be broken 

I just want you to know who I am 

The interlude came crashing through the speakers, the powerful music touched two worn, broken souls who had managed to find each other and were afraid to let go. Rory held him tighter, wishing she could take away all the pain and fear that she knew he kept hidden deep inside. They swayed lightly to the music and neither of them had ever been more sure of what they wanted.

Tristan felt her grip tighten and he responded by holding her closer. He had glimpsed some of her pain tonight and he had seen the anguish in her eyes; he never wanted her to suffer again. In that moment, and all the moments of his life that followed, he was willing to take all her pain and lay it on his own shoulders, he was willing to do anything to make her happy. 

__

And I don't want the world to see me 

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand 

When everything's made to be broken 

I just want you to know who I am 

The music entered a phenomenal crescendo and so did Rory's despair at the thought of leaving the warm refuge of Tristan's embrace. She could feel it then, a gentle tugging on her heartstrings, and she knew that he was special, that he was the one for her. 

Tristan was positive that he was feeling something he had never felt before; a nervous and excited rush, a desire that overpowered everything else. He knew then that she was special, she was the one for him…and he was absolutely sure that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. 

__

And I don't want the world to see me 

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand 

When everything's made to be broken 

I just want you to know who I am 

He loved her, he was certain.

__

I just want you to know who I am 

And he wanted to tell her,

__

I just want you to know who I am

that she had become his everything.

__

I just want you to know who I am

But there was only one thing holding him back…

__

I just want you to know who I am…

~~~~~~~~~

There it is! The Trory-packed chapter that I promised! I hoped you guys liked it and I really need all the feedback I can get! 

Do you guys like where it's heading? But I must warn that it isn't all peaches and cream from this point on…

__

Peace, 

Madz


	7. Moonlight Shadow

A/N: Alrighty! Here is chapter seven!!! 65 reviews!!!! Wow, thank you guys so much! Keep 'em coming!  
  
I don't own anything pertain to Gilmore Girls nor do I own the song "18 and Life" by Skid Row, which is mentioned in this chapter.   
  
A special thanks to all my regular reviewers!  
  
Enjoy it!  
  
Chapter 7:  
  
Moonlight Shadow  
  
Rory shivered in the cool September evening air. Glancing up, she watched the leaves sway softly in the evening breeze. Soon their green hues would change into a beautiful medley of bright and vivid yellow, orange, and gold. Fall was Rory's second favourite season, next to spring, and she couldn't think of a more perfect autumn evening then this.   
  
Tristan and she were walking along a worn path in a park not far from Pandora's. After the song had finished, each had caught the other staring and both of them had pulled away quickly. They returned to their table but Tristan could feel Rory's discomfort and embarrassment and neither of them could find anything to talk about. Tristan had suggested a walk through a park that he knew well and they had left shortly after ten o'clock.   
  
Now, neither of them spoke as they strolled idly along; Rory could feel herself relax and could sense that feeling of discomfort evaporate.   
  
"It's beautiful here. I can't believe I've never been hear before." This place had a certain feel to it, but Rory couldn't exactly peg it.  
  
"Yeah, it's very...calming." Tristan replied, "I come here to think sometimes."  
  
That was it, the word Rory had been looking for. This park was a break from the normal, hectic lifestyle that most people were used to and Rory loved it for it. "How did you find it?" Rory's curious, journalistic side took over and she couldn't help but wonder.   
  
"Sometimes, I have trouble sleeping," Tristan answered hesitantly. "So I go for jogs at night and I just stumbled upon it. I guess you could say it found me."   
  
Rory noticed the light smile that played on his lips and she felt herself smiling back. She concluded that Tristan was a lot like this place. He had this aura around him; a calm, peaceful, easygoing nature. Rory felt safe and a little more carefree around him. He was a small fragment of serenity in the middle of a mad rush of rules, expectations, and obligations and she was lucky enough to have found him.   
  
Tristan meandered along the path, gently kicking a rock along, watching it bump and tumble along the rough trail. Thinking back on their date, he smiled softly. He knew it sounded cliché, but the evening was a dream come true, it was everything he could ever hope for and more, and it was all because of her. She was like a rare miracle, one exquisite rose among an innumerable company of thorns. And he had found her. Tristan was on cloud nine, he felt invincible; when she smiled at him, he was in heaven, nothing could touch him.  
  
But he quickly found that paradise doesn't last for ever when the question that escaped her lips sent him crashing back down to earth. "You know what I just realized, Tristan? You never told me your last name."  
  
Tristan stared at her, shocked. He hadn't, it was true, but he was hoping that she wouldn't notice, at least for a while. Should he tell her the truth? He wanted to, so badly, but he was terrified. What if she had family in Hartford? What if she had heard about the DuGrey boy who mysteriously disappeared? After he had run away, Tristan had never seen anything on the news or in the paper, it had briefly made him wonder bitterly if his parents had even noticed his absence. Of course, his parents had been vacationing in Morocco during the four months prior to his "departure". They had left without a note or a word and had never called or tried to speak to him; Tristan could feel his anger swell at the thought of the people he had dared to call parents. He forced himself to breathe deeply and tried desperately to ignore that empty feeling inside.   
  
"Come on, be honest now. Are you on the run?" Rory's voice was light and playful. "I finally figure it out! A while ago I saw the FBI's top 10 Most Dangerous Men list - that's why you looked so familiar!" Tristan laughed softly at her antics and that only seemed to fuel her insane babbling. "Specializing in serial grocery theft and attacking poor old ladies, I believe. Number three right? Pray tell, just why, exactly, are you not number one?" Her tone was one of mock disappointment, but her eyes were shining brightly and he could tell that she was trying vainly to keep from smiling.  
  
Rory watched contentedly as he laughed lightly, but a frown replaced her smile when she noticed that his mirth did quite reach his eyes. Instead, the usually bright azure irises were a dark, turbulent sapphire. She wondered what he was thinking about and waited patiently for him to answer.   
  
"DuGrey. My name's Tristan Dugrey." Rory smiled triumphantly, glad that she could weasel it out of him but she missed the light hint hesitation and fear in his voice.   
  
"Dugrey, huh? Hmm...I like it! You have my stamp of approval!" Tristan laughed at that.  
  
"I'm so thankful!" He played along. Brushing a fake tear from his cheek he said, "I've been waiting my whole life to hear you say those words."   
  
Rory laughed and let the charade fade away. She loved these moments of levity with Tristan; she loved the fact that Tristan felt free enough to be dramatic around her, like he trusted her.   
  
"So..." Tristan's voice trailed off.   
  
"So..." Rory mimicked, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Tristan smiled. What made this girl so different? So captivating? He wanted to know everything about her: her favourite food, what her family's like, where she came from, what she was doing here. His curiosity kicked in and he couldn't help but question her.  
  
"So, do you go to school here? In New Haven, I mean."   
  
"Yeah, I'm in my second year - at Yale." She glanced over to see his eyes wide with shock. "What?" she asked, a little confused.  
  
"Nothing..." his voice trailed off again, but this time his eyes were bright with surprise and amusement. "Well, now I feel kind of stupid."   
  
"Why would you feel stupid?"  
  
"Well, here I am thinking that I know everything there is to know," he joked, "only to find out that I have met my match."  
  
"Your match?" Rory questioned with a beaming smile. She was beginning to love Tristan's playful side.  
  
"Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about Miss Smarty-pants. What have you got to say for yourself?" There was a mock scowl on his face and Rory erupted into a bout of laughter. Tristan's cheeks coloured slightly in the dim light of the evening as he struggled to keep the feigned look of disappointment on his face.   
  
Rory's laughter ceased and she joined in the act. With a resigned sigh, she lowered her head in shame. "Oh, alright! You've got me, I admit it: I was crowned Miss Smarty-pants 2007-2008. I just... I just didn't want you to know that my idol is Jimmy Neutron and...I really did want world domination- I mean, peace!"  
  
Tristan chuckled jovially and he felt his heartbeat speed up. There's just something about her... "Ahh, so the truth comes out, ladies and gentlemen!" Tristan turned and gestured to an imaginary crowd as they continued on their way. "Her true colours come shinning through!"  
  
They both exploded into laughter, holding their sides and stumbling down the path until tears threatened to fall from their eyes.   
  
"Well,..." Tristan cleared his throat in an effort to control the smile that was tugging at his lips. "That was...educational."  
  
Rory chuckled. "Speaking of education, I never got to finish what I was saying-" But she was cut off, yet again.  
  
"Yes, since you so rudely interrupted yourself."   
  
"Excuse me?! I seemed to recall you stating that you felt stupid. I believe the reason was because I attend Yale - if my memory doesn't fail me."  
  
"It's failing you." Tristan said with a cheeky grin and a subtle fluttering of his eyelashes.   
  
Rory sputtered. This was definitely a new side to Tristan. She was successfully squashing the urge to smile and continued with their playful banter.  
  
"If I recall," Tristan supplied with a self-righteous smirk, "You stopped and said 'what?'"   
  
"Only because you were giving me a look." Rory retorted.  
  
"What look?" Tristan questioned donning an innocent voice and throwing his hands up to support his faultless actions.   
  
"You know, that look." When she received nothing but a questioning face from Tristan she elaborated. "That look that says: 'Well, um, gee, I guess Miss. Wigglesworth was right when she said my brain was smaller than the average pea.'" For the last part Rory adopted a deep, manly, moronic voice in the hopes that it would help get her point across.  
  
"I did no such thing." Tristan continued on with his performance, absolutely loving every minute of it. "And just who, pray tell, is Miss. Wigglesworth?!"  
  
Rory couldn't believe it: Tristan had mocked her! "Did you just mock me?" Rory narrowed her eyes and sent him a death glare, unable to keep the corners of her mouth from curling up.   
  
"Absolutely not."   
  
"I think you did. You just broke Gilmore Rule Number 15, buster: Never impersonate a Gilmore - you're just not good enough."   
  
"Oh, so that's how it going to be?" Tristan laughed at the thought of Rory and Lorelai editing and revising the Gilmore Rules. He'd have to ask her about that one later.  
  
"Yes, that's how it's going to be." Rory eyes were shimmering; she was thoroughly enjoying herself. She never would have thought of Tristan as being so...witty. He was as quick with giving comebacks as she was and he kept her on her toes. It was such a change from that shy, blushing Tristan that she loved just as much.   
  
"Fine then." Tristan crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his nose up in the air. "At least I won."   
  
Rory rolled her eyes, finally allowing the laughter to escape. "You're insufferable."  
  
"If you say so." Tristan mustered up the courage to give her a wink.   
  
Rory's heart nearly stopped when she saw the wink Tristan directed at her. Had he really meant it? Her heart resumed and skipped a beat at that thought but she quickly reasoned with herself. Of course he didn't, he's just playing along. It was amazing that a simple wink could cause this much inner controversy. She needed to find a new topic.   
  
"Anyway," She gave Tristan a pointed look and continued. "I'm studying History and English and, drum roll please, I plan on becoming a journalist."  
  
The mood of the evening had sobered down and Tristan regarded her with fascination and respect. "Wow, that's a great goal." He paused for a moment and asked quietly, "Has it always been your big dream?" Tristan noticed how his voice had subconsciously lowered. He didn't like discussing dreams; it was bittersweet. He hated thinking about how all of his dreams had been shattered by the rough life he had been dealt, but he was happy to know that sometimes, somewhere, for other people, dreams did come true.   
  
"Yeah." Rory answered just as quietly, but her voice held a dreamy, happy tone. "I've always wanted to be a front-page reporter for the New York Times, for as long as I can remember. Maybe I'll make it some day..."  
  
"I hope you will," He smiled encouragingly. "I know you will."  
  
"Thank you." Rory could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. He was so sweet, not to mention adorable, and she wondered how there wasn't a line up of girls waiting to be with him. "What about you? Do you go to school here?"  
  
Tristan looked down at his shoes swarmed with remorse and sadness. He struggled to compose himself and raised his head to give her what he hoped was a cheerful smile. "No, I would have been in my second year, too, but it never happened. I joined the work force instead." He shrugged his shoulders as if it didn't matter, but truthfully he was hoping that the smooth motion would cause all his worries to just slip off his shoulders and fall away to nothing. "I would have liked to go, I think I would have taken a shot at art and history but...things didn't work out that way."  
  
Rory forced a smile but inside her heart was breaking for him. She knew he had tried to hide it again, but she had seen the regret, sorrow, and, what was worse, failure, in his eyes. He looked so weighted down, like the world was on his shoulders. Rory couldn't help but think back to a line from a song that an old band, Skid Row possibly, that Lane had introduced her to: 'He walked the streets a soldier and he fought the world alone...'  
  
"Oh, so you were the runner up for Miss. Smarty-pants." Rory tried to make a gentle joke about it to get him to smile, really smile. And he did, only she could tell it was forced and somewhat tainted.   
  
"Yeah, I never got a chance," Tristan wanted to leave it at that, to tell her the truth but he couldn't. He cleared his throat and continued, "To wear my evening gown."  
  
Rory laughed softly but her smile, like his, didn't quite reach her eyes. She tried to think of something to say, something that would cheer him up and get his mind off what his regrets. She looked around for a topic of interest and, with a gasp, stopped walking when she saw what was ahead of them.   
  
Tristan was lost in his own reverie but he was brought back to the present when he heard a soft gasp escaped her lips. He stopped and glanced back to find her rooted to her spot staring straight ahead at the pond. "Are you okay, Rory?"   
  
Rory snapped back to attention when she heard his question, touched by the genuine concern she heard in his voice and saw written all over his face. The incredibly beautiful sight in front of her had rendered her speechless, as well as motionless.  
  
There was a beautiful little pond, its water looked almost black, covered and changed by a moonlight shadow. The soothing sound of it gently lapping against the shore drifted up to her ears and she found that it was soft, calming, and peaceful. A exquisite variety of trees surrounded it on three sides, the hugged closed to the shoreline and their branches draped down over the waters as if in an eternal effort to touch that tranquil, magical water. A few leaves had fallen early and drifted in the gentle waves like helpless entities that had surrendered to the euphoric atmosphere and enchanting scenery. To top it all off, and to make it seem even more like a fairy tale, there was an old wooden bridge crossing over the water. Rory, quite frankly, was in love with the place.   
  
"Wow." She whispered softly. It was all she could say.  
  
"I hoped you would like it." Tristan smiled at the sight of Rory standing with her mouth hanging open looking like she had just received a 'Free Coffee For Life' certificate. This place really was special; it was where Tristan came to think about things or, sometimes, to avoid thinking about things. He had wanted Rory to see it because he cherished this place like he cherished the thought of her.   
  
Rory had an urge to kick off her shoes and dangle her feet over the edge of the bridge, letting her toes dip into the cool, refreshing water. And she decided to do just that. Without thinking, Rory grabbed Tristan's hand and, overwhelmed by the electricity of his touch, bounded off towards the water.   
  
Tristan was in heaven. When her small hand had slipped in his he couldn't have been happier. They raced along and her luxurious brown hair flew behind her as her laughter rang out as the raced towards the water. Tristan gasped. The water.  
  
He skidded to a halt and, due to their joined hands, Rory jerked to a stop in front of him. She turned to face him, still laughing, and she opened her mouth to scold him but the words died on her lips when she saw his expression. He was staring straight ahead at the water like she had been moments before but his face was deathly pale and his eyes were wide with fear.   
  
"Tristan," She panting voice was full of concern. "What's wrong?"  
  
Tristan forcefully pulled his eyes away from the water and stared at Rory. At the sight of her flushed cheeks and her beautiful, worried blue eyes Tristan felt a wave of reassurance crash over him.   
  
"I...I'm..." Rory watched him stammer and hesitate, her concern growing by the second. Finally, he looked down at his feet and mumbled, "I don't like the water."  
  
"Don't like it?"  
  
"I...I'm afraid of it." Oh. Now Rory understood. He was afraid of water, she knew many people who were, it was a common fear.  
  
"Can you swim?" Rory asked softly, giving him a tiny, encouraging smile. He shook his head vigorously and Rory found that he was still avoiding her eyes. Tentatively, she reached out and placed her free hand under his chin and pushed it up gently, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Hey, it's okay. I understand."  
  
She smiled and squeezed his hand and Tristan realized that her hand was still wrapped around his. "I...I think I could once, when I was little but...something happened, something bad. I don't like to go in there anymore." Rory's heart swelled with sympathy for him, he was standing in front of her, ashamed and afraid, he looked like a lost little boy. It was only natural for people who had had traumatic experiences in water to avoid it completely.   
  
She took a chance, as she always seemed to do around Tristan, and, letting go of his hand, she wrapped her arms around him. Tristan paused a moment before hesitantly wrapping his arms around her tiny waist; Rory could feel his rigid body relax against her and she held him tighter. Tristan buried his face in her silky hair and breathed in the light scent of peaches that surrounded her. This is where he belonged; this is where he felt safe.  
  
Finally, Rory slowly pulled away and for both of them it was too soon. She couldn't exactly explain it but she felt...equal in his arms. It wasn't the romantic word that she would have thought she'd use to describe the feeling of being wrapped up in his arms, but it fit. She showed him as much compassion as he showed her; she knew he needed her as much as she needed him. They could give everything to each other in that simple action without speaking one single word. Rory couldn't help but give into the wave up security that came with being in his gentle embrace and he made her feel like she was cherished above all other things, like she was extraordinary.   
  
After pulling away, she lost all that and was left with only a lingering feeling of loss that made her shiver.   
  
Tristan saw her wrap her arms around herself as she trembled in the cool evening air. "Are you cold?" Without waiting for an answer, Tristan reached up and pulled off his blue, long-sleeved shirt, revealing only a white wifebeater underneath. "Here. Take this, I don't want you to catch a cold." He held it out to her and it hung there, suspended by his hand for several moments.  
  
Rory was shocked and left speechless once again that evening. As his face had been hidden by the shirt that he was tugging over his head, Rory couldn't help but stare at his taunt, muscled stomach as the white shirt he was still clad in drifted up a little. My God! Rory thought, feeling her knees go weak. What mom wouldn't do for a man that had that six-pack! As he finally succeeded in pulling it off his head and was fixing the wifebeater, Rory's eyes roamed up his long, well-muscled arms, his tanned, broad shoulders, his incredible pectorals, and all the way down to his attractive, narrow waist. Yup, a voice that sounded suspiciously like her mother spoke in her head, it's official. HE's a Greek god.  
  
When Rory saw his outstretched hand and the shirt dangling from it, she mentally pinched herself and came down from heaven. She was quite proud to find that she was still capable of forming coherent sentences. "No, I couldn't. Then you'll catch a cold."  
  
Tristan refused to accept that and smiled as he shook his head. "Yes, but it was my idea to come here so I can't let you get sick."  
  
"But I'd actually be my fault for not bringing a jacket." Rory replied stubbornly. "I get sick, my fault."  
  
Apparently he was just as stubborn as she was. "Nope, you get sick, I feel guilty." He smiled again and spoke softly. "Take it. Please."  
  
Rory groaned. She didn't want to take it because she knew that all she would be able to think about was the fact that each part of the shirt that touched her skin had touched him. Talk about torture.   
  
She signed, giving up, and reached out to accept the sweater. "You're as stubborn as me, you cow." A light smile graced both their faces as she tugged the shirt over her head. It was soft and his body heat still lingered on the fabric. Rory lost herself in the strong, soft scent of his cologne; it was spicy, but gentle, a little soapy, and a unique smell that was uniquely him. She pulled the sleeves over her fingers and pulled the neck over her nose, taking a deep breath. "Mmm, you smell good." She commented, watching him blush, smile and whisper a soft thank you.   
  
He reached over and playfully pulled the neck off her nose but his hand came up to lingered in the air beside her face and softly brushed her cheek. Rory stared up at him with wide, excited, fearful eyes not completely sure if she wanted to duck away or grab him and kiss him senseless.   
  
But she waited patiently as he ever so slowly leaned in, his eyes searching her face, and giving her a chance to pull away. But she didn't, she wanted him to kiss her, she wanted to know what it felt like to have his soft lips on hers. He was close now, he reached forward to lightly take hold of the hands that were hanging at her side and when he did he couldn't tell which one of them had sweatier palms.   
  
Rory felt his gentle fingers in her hand and she squeezed them gently. She could feel his warm breath tickle her face and his beautiful eyes slowly drifted shut, the long curly eyelashes sending shadows over his cheek. In a second, his lips would touch hers; she couldn't wait. This is it, Rory thought...  
  
Suddenly, Tristan felt a sharp pain shoot through his head. He stumbled back, pained and frightened by the sudden burst of agony. An involuntary whimper escaped his lips as he doubled over, grasping his aching head between two trembling hands.   
  
Rory saw all this and wondered frantically what was wrong. She reached for him, trying to steady him as he moaned in pain. "Tristan? Tristan, are you all right?"   
  
Tristan didn't answer, he was struggling to regain his composure and at the same time looked around to find the source of the throbbing in his head. He knew exactly who he'd see when he turned to the right and he wasn't shocked at all. The ghost who had stood behind Rory at the café, the ghost who had shot a mug, purposely making it miss his head by a millimeter, the ghost of Rory's dead boyfriend.   
  
Dean.  
  
"Tristan? Tristan, look at me? Come on, I'm going to take you to the hospital." Rory's frenzied words brought Tristan back to the matter at hand. He couldn't go to the hospital? How would he explain this?   
  
"No..." His voice came out weakly but he tried again. "No, Rory, I'm fine."  
  
"I don't think so. We're going to go see a doctor. Can you walk?"   
  
He gently cupped her face with his hands, forcing her to slow down and look him in the eyes. "Rory, this has happened before." He lied. "I'm going to walk you home and then I'll go home to sleep and I'll be as good as new in the morning."  
  
"No, Tristan." She shook her head stubbornly.  
  
"Now who's being as stubborn as a cow?" He forced out a laugh, hoping it would make her believe that he was fine. But he wasn't. His head was throbbing so badly that he thought he would be sick right then and there, but there was no was he was letting her walk through the park and back to her dorm by herself. He would see her safely into the building if it was the last thing he did.  
  
She signed and stared at him intensely for a moment. He tried his best to but on a tired, but comfortable front, luckily, although it made him sad that he could lie to her so easily, she bought it. "Fine. But at least let me walk you home."  
  
"No, the walk to your place will help clear my head. I'll be able to sleep much easier." Finally, she agreed and helped him straighten up and let him lean against her as they started the walk to her dorm. There would be no post-date pleasantries, no kiss good bye. Instead there was a third wheel, a ghost who wanted to hurt him.   
  
Tristan knew why this ghost hated him so much. He had seen Dean before, while he was still alive.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
There it is! I hope it was worth the wait! Please, please review!   
  
So Tristan has met Dean before! What happened during their encounter that makes Dean hate Tristan to this extent? But where, you may ask? Why? Well, I can't tell ya that one...at least, not for a while! Review lots and (maybe) you'll find out!  
  
Oh, don't you just love suspense?!  
  
Love, MAdz 


	8. Let Go

A/N: Alrighty folks, I still don't own anything pertaining to _Gilmore Girls, _nor do I own anything having to do with _'YMCA' _by the _Village People_, the _Goo Goo Dolls' 'Iris', _or the film _'Johnny English' _which are all mentioned in this chapter. 

Okay, I hate to spoil this for you but in this chapter the set a date foe the second date (lol!) and I know it may be moving pretty fast but I'm going to ITALY in 3 weeks for a whole month. Now, I'd hate to leave you guys hanging for that long ***grins mischievously* **so I want to get it done before I leave. That means I've got 3 weeks to write at least another 6 chapters!!! Don't worry though, I've got the whole story planned out and it's gonna be awesome!

Speacial thanks to my regular reviewers **jayde, LizDarcy, smile, RainCloud, coffeechick87, Julianne, **and **Slytherin Princess **and anyone I forgot to mention! 

Chapter 8:

Let Go

Rory sighed tiredly before guzzling down the rest of her steaming hot cup of coffee. Patting George the Coffee Maker on what she assumed was his head, she wandered off into the bedroom to throw on some clothes and get her books for class. After tossing them in her book bag she grabbed her keys and headed for the door, but something caught her eye. She came to a stop and stared at the phone sitting across the small room on the end table. 

Should she call Tristan and see how he was doing? She had been kept awake for most of the night as thoughts of Tristan flitted through her head. He was a complex myth that she was dying to figure out. Shy, gentle and sweet yet incredibly funny and outgoing with a hint of mystery. He was one of the most incredible people Rory had ever met. But there was something in him that made him different, something that made him seem far older than the twenty-year-old that he was. It was there, lurking just below the surface, but she could never quite grasp what it truly was.

Last night when he had dropped her off at her door she had seen the look of exhaustion and pain that he tried desperately to hide. Instead of asking Tristan to honestly tell her what was wrong like she wanted to, Rory had reached out and hugged him, feeling his tired body lean against hers, and told him to get home safely before forcing herself to close the door.

Now her overactive mind couldn't help but struggle to come up with ideas to explain the enigma that was Tristan DuGrey. The one that seemed most reasonable, and made her hold her breath in fear, was the conclusion that Tristan had some fatal sickness that he either didn't know about or kept completely to himself. It would explain why he kept to himself, rarely letting himself let go, relax, and be free. It made Rory think back to the first day they had met and he said, hesitantly, that he believed that not all people had been lucky enough to have good "stories". 

It all made sense and Rory found that it also made her eyes fill with tears, which she fought to keep back. She told herself that she was being foolish, that her overtired mind had made too many assumptions and false observations. But she needed to call him, just to hear his voice and reassure herself that she was insanely stupid to think that he was dying.

She glanced at her watch, it was 9:30 now and her class didn't start until 11. Reaching for her phone, she dialed the number that he had given her last night. She sat down but upon hearing the first ring she jumped to her feet and began pacing. 

Half way across town, Tristan lazily rolled over, trying in vain to block out the insistent piercing ring of the telephone and succumb to the sleep that had been evading him for the past couple of hours. Tristan grabbed a pillow and shoved it over his head, somewhat muffling the high-pitched jingle of the electronic. 

__

Telephone? Who was calling him at 9:30 in the morning?

Suddenly, he remembered giving his number to Rory the night before at Pandora's and he shot out of his bed taking the sheets, which had become entangled in his legs, with him. He danced around frantically trying to free himself of the sheets but only managed to trip and land flat on his face. Finally, after much kicking and squirming, Tristan was able to wiggle out of his binds. 

He ran out of the bedroom and down the short hallway, praying that he would make it before she cut the call. He wasn't sure he had the nerve to call her back. He could see the phone up ahead on the kitchen counter and he quickened his pace. Unfortunately, he wasn't watching where he was going and stumbled over a bowl that someone had 

strategically placed. _Mary, _he thought in annoyance, scolding the absent, mischievous ghost in his head. 

Finally, Tristan reached the phone and, snatching it off the base, brought it quickly to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi." Rory smiled as she listened to him huffing and puffing. "Did I wake you up?" 

"Nah, not really. I was already awake. You just…gave me the motivation to get_ out _of bed." Rory was glad to see that he was back to himself. She couldn't hold back her laughter at the mental image of Tristan running like a mad man at 9:30 in the morning to answer the phone.

"Well, I'm sorry to have _motivated _you so early in the morning but I had a perfectly legitimate reason for calling."

"Did you?" Tristan was surprised to hear the tone of amusement in his voice but he couldn't help but smile at the thought of her.

"Yes, I wanted to see if you were feeling better?" Tristan cheerful disposition immediately became solemn and quiet. He thought back to Dean's terrible interruption the night before. 

The unearthly attack to his head had left him in pain for hours after he had dropped Rory back home close to midnight. He had been afraid that he wouldn't make it home but when he did he was glad to see his bedsheets pulled down by Mary's ghostly hand and to have her tuck him in as he curled up in a ball, willing the pain to go away. It must have subsided because he had drifted off into a restless sleep and had woken up to the bright sun at 7:30. 

He was startled to see Mary standing beside his bed, worry clouded her beautiful blue eyes and she was very transparent. The rich chestnut colour of her hair seemed faded and her bright white sleeping gown took on a grayish tint. Some ghost changed appearance with their moods. They seemed completely real and substantial when they're happy, almost like you could reach out and touch them but when they're melancholy their colour fades and they themselves become translucent. To Tristan they almost looked like something from an old silent film.

For once her vivacious, merry mood had sobered and she stood completely still, watching him gravely. 'I'm okay, Mary.' He had mumbled as he turned over; the cloud of sleep still hung over him but was slowly wearing away. And just like that she was back; she shouted joyfully and those beautiful eyes were dancing again. With a playful tug on his sleeve she disappeared, her laughter lingering in the air behind her. 

"So are you? And I want the truth." Rory said, half-serious, half-teasing. 

Tristan's heart sank when he heard her say that, but inside he knew that she had every right to. She could even scream and accuse him of being deceitful and he would only apologize and tell her she was right. He had lied to her last night, actually lied. Sure, before he had omitted things, some pretty important things, but he had never lied to her face. At least, not until last night and now he would have to do it again.

"I'm doing better, much better. I'm just a little tired, that's all."

"Honestly?" Rory was relieved at hearing this but that little 

voice in the back of her head was telling her that there's something she was missing. 

"Yes." Rory hesitated a bit before asking her next question.

"I don't mean to be rude but…has that ever happened before?" Tristan sharply sucked in a breath. He had already told her that it had, which was a lie, so he'd have to stick with that but how would he explain it?

"Yes, it has. Once."

"Oh. Why does it happen?" Rory didn't want to stick her nose where it didn't belong but she was curious…and a little scared.

"I…I don't know, Rory. It just…does." Tristan was choosing his words carefully, struggling not to dig himself farther and farther into his own grave. 

"I'm sorry. Does it…hurt a lot?"

Tristan faltered for a moment. "Yeah, I…but it's like a terrible migraine…I'm sure a lot of other people get it, too."

"Maybe, but why does it come so quickly. I mean, one second your fine and the next…" Concern and fear were evident in Rory's voice, which softened until it was nothing more than a whisper. "You could barely stand, Tristan."

There was no answer from Tristan's side of the line. He knew she was worried and it was killing him to know that he was putting her through this. 

Rory heard his silence and immediately felt contrite for being so inquisitive and snooping around where she shouldn't have. "I'm sorry, Tristan. I shouldn't have asked you so many questions when it's none of my business. I'm just worried about you."

"It's okay, Rory. You don't have anything to feel sorry about and I understand that you're worried, it's just…it's just painful to talk about."

"Okay, I…" Rory didn't know what to say next. His voice was gentle but strained and suddenly she found herself wishing that she could be there with him, in his arms, seeking and giving solace. "I'll just let it drop then, but if it happens again and you need help or if you need someone to talk to, pick me okay?"

"Okay." His voice was as soft as hers but he was relieved that she had let it go and moved by her simple, loyal offer of support. "Thank you."

"Your welcome." Rory could feel the heat rising to her cheeks as he accepted her offer. When she spoke again her voice was light, cheerful, and contained a tone of playful teasing. "So, you slept well, Mr. DuGrey? I hope you weren't lying to me, I didn't wake you from your beauty rest did I?"

"No, I spoke the truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God." He adopted a deep, choppy voice and, quite frankly, he sounded like a hillbilly. Rory laughed at his mischievous behaviour and was about to respond when he continued on – this time in his regular voice, with a hint of mock arrogance. "And that part about the beauty rest? That stuff doesn't do any anything for me."

"You're right," Rory joked, turning his joke on him. "You're way too far beyond help now."

Tristan laughed at her cleverness. "That's not what I meant. I meant that I'm so naturally good-looking that I don't need to get any beauty rest. I mean, how many people do you know that look _this _hot at 10 in the morning?"

He asked it as if it was a valid question, which it wasn't, but Rory was laughing regardless. He also seemed to have overlooked the fact that she couldn't exactly see him and confirm his claim. _Although I'm sure that what he does look incredibly hot even at this hour. _

Rory blushed at the thought. She was one of the many people who looked absolutely dreadful in those ungodly hours of the morning but she could just imagine seeing his beautiful eyes lazy with sleep and that everlasting tousled mess of hair even more disheveled. Not to mention those lips pouting as he begged for a few more minutes to rest. Pushing those thoughts out of her head before they got any further, Rory snapped back to the conversation.

"Well, aren't we the modest one?"

"That's what people tell me." Rory could practically see him smirking. She had seen it a few times last night as they joked around and wondered why she had seen it so rarely in the time since she'd met him. 

"Do you always believe what people tell you?"

"If they're complimenting me? Yes. If they're trying to sell me something? No. If they're preaching about Nirvana and Karma? Well, in that case I'm not sure but what goes around does come around, so why not?" 

"Oh my God." Rory pretended to be shocked as she spoke the three words slowly.

"What?" Tristan had been joking the whole time but now he felt self-conscious. 

"Alert the press, people! I just witnessed a supernatural phenomenon: Tristan DuGrey has officially been caught babbling." 

"Oh." Tristan felt relief and laughter flow through him as he heard her carry on. 

"You know, you would get along so well with my mother. I think you two should have lunch." Rory joked.

"Sure thing. It's a date." Tristan stopped suddenly, horrified by what he had said. "No! That's not what I meant! I…not a date…just a lunch!" Tristan was inwardly cursing himself as he struggled to get his clear meaning across. "Not even a lunch, just a joke! I'm not even into older women – I swear! We were joking…I, I didn't mean it that way. Honestly!"

Rory flopped onto the couch as she succumbed to a fit of giggles. She hadn't heard anything that funny since she had witnessed her drunken mom and Luke's rendition of "YMCA" in the middle of Stars Hollow Town Square. She could tell that Tristan didn't mean it in a bad way but to hear him stumble over his words in a mad rush to avoid upsetting her was just priceless.

As he heard her laughter on the other end, Tristan sank into a chair and discreetly smacked his head on the table a few times. _You're such a moron! _He told himself._ You are so lucky that she hasn't hung up and filed for a restraining order! _He was in the middle of reprimanding himself when Rory finally found her voice again.

"That's all right, Tristan. I know you didn't mean anything by it. It was just so funny!" He replied with another 'Sorry', which was slightly muffled because his face was still smushed on the table. 

"Don't worry about. Even Mom will think it's funny."

Tristan sat up straight in his chair. "You're going to tell her?" His voice was incredulous, filled with worry and shock.

"Of course. I told you not to worry, though. When she sees you and discovers what a nice guy you are, she'll love you regardless."

Tristan forgot about the embarrassment that was in store for him but was instead focused on something she had said. "You want me to meet your mom?" His voice was soft and full of wonder and happiness. 

__

She wants me to meet her mom! As scary as the situation generally was, Tristan had heard a lot about the older Lorelai Gilmore and she sounded like a wonderful, albeit crazy, women. He wasn't scared to meet her, a bit nervous, yes, but he wanted to see what kind of relationship a caring mother could have with their child. 

Rory realized her mistake too late. _Meet my mom! That's the quickest way to get rid of a guy – especially when it's MY mom!_

"Um, sure, sometime in the future. Only if you'd like to – there's no pressure." Rory winced as she waited to hear his answer.

"No, no, I'd love to. Really. From how you've described her, she seems like an incredible person." Rory was shocked to hear him say that. _He really is one in a million…_ "Plus, I've got to see if there really is someone out there who's crazier than you. Now, I'm a skeptic and experts are baffled but nothing's impossible right?"

Rory laughed happily. "Right." She mustered up her courage to speak her next words. "And on that note, I'd like to know if it's possible to see if you would like to go out again?"

Tristan nearly fell off his chair. She was asking him out on a second date! What were the odds of that? Rory Gilmore was beautiful and intelligent and way out of his league, but she was asking him to go on a second date. He was shocked. 

Suddenly, Mary appeared beside him, almost causing him to fall out of his chair again, and gave him an insistent look while tugging fiercely on his arm. For some reason, Mary was just as excited as he was about his relationship with Rory and her excitement was enough to bring him back to reality.

"I..I'd like that, Rory." He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks and he stood up from the table, turning so that Mary wouldn't see his lack of composure. 

"Great." Rory secretly heaved a sigh of relieve. Although she had wanted to go out on a second date with Tristan she hadn't thought that _she_ would ask _him_. 

Tristan couldn't keep the smile off his face as he spoke. "How about a movie?"

"Sounds good. I really want to see _Johnny English_!" Tristan could hear the excitement in her voice and chuckled lightly.

"_Johnny English _it is then! Maybe after we could grab a coffee and head to the park for a while?" 

"Sure. Tonight?"

"I'm sorry but I have to work tonight. Is Thursday night okay?"

"Yeah, after today I don't have a class until Monday."

"Sounds like a plan?"

"Sounds like a date to me." Rory had no idea where she got the audacity to say that but she was always surprising herself around Tristan.

"Good thing you said that. I wanted to but I didn't want a repeat of earlier." Rory giggled and was forming a reply when she heard her call waiting. 

"Oh, Tristan, I've got a call coming in. I'll see you Thursday night. Can we meet at the theatres at seven?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, I'll see you then."

"Bye, Rory."

"Bye." 

Rory fumbled with the phone, her excitement evident in her shaky breathing and her glowing smile. She glanced at the clock. 10:02. She still had twenty minutes before she had to leave. Finally, she succeeded in hitting the _Flash _button. 

"Hello?"

"Mini-me! There you are! Have you fallen off the face of the Earth?"

"No, Mom, I-"

"Have you been living under a rock?"

"No, Mom –"

"Have you been dating a super-hot guy who goes by the name of Tristan?"

Silence.

"You are so guilty, my child!"

"Oh, fine, you caught me." Rory grumbled though a smile tweaked up the corners of her mouth.

Lorelai was silent for a moment, then said expectantly, "Well, what do you say?"

"Lorelai is the Queen of the Universe, she is all-seeing, all-hearing, all-knowing and all-coffee consuming. I am lucky to have her for my mother, I am lucky to have been blessed with her presence."

Again Lorelai waited and then spoke in an overly-sweet voice. "You forgot something…"

Rory sighed playfully and grumbled again. "I am lucky to be…her little grasshopper."

"Mommy loves you, sweetie. You just made my day. I like the part that you added bout the all-coffee consuming."

"I was going for brownie points."

"Well, it worked, munchkin." 

"Good, so then I don't have to-" But here mother cut her off.

"Tell me all the details."

"Darn." To be honest, Rory couldn't wait to tell her mother everything about her evening with Tristan, so she did. 

"He told me his last name. DuGrey. Doesn't that sound good?" Rory was on cloud nine just thinking about him.

"Hmmm. DuGrey, huh?" To Lorelai the name sounded familiar but she couldn't recall where she had heard it. _Oh well, what's the point in worrying about it. She likes him, it's as simple as that. _"Rory DuGrey…Yeah it does actually, nice ring to it!" 

"Mom!"

She left out the part about Tristan's spontaneous headache but she did mention that she felt he was hiding something from her.

"Something dangerous?" Lorelai asked, concern flooding her voice. 

"No, nothing like that. Just something personal." Lorelai could hear her daughter's frustration at this guy's secretive ways.

"Don't sweat it, honey. He probably wants to make sure he can trust you first; he probably just wants to avoid getting hurt."

"I know, but I just wish he'd tell me whatever it is."

"He will, sweetie. Just give him time to come around and show him that he can trust you."

"Okay. I guess you're right." Rory thought about what her mother had said. It made sense, she had to show Tristan that she was trustworthy so that he would be comfortable enough to be completely open and honest with her.

"So _'Iris',_ huh? Good song." Rory cringed as her mother launched into the song, singing at the top of her lungs. 

"Mom?" But she continued on.

" '_And I don't want the world to see me-'"_

"Mom!"

"Yeah?" 

"Please don't ruin the song for me. Up until 30 seconds ago, it brought _good _memories." Lorelai grumbled something about 'evil children these days' and said she had to leave for the inn.

Rory said her goodbyes and ended the conversation. Placing the phone back on the cradle, she gathered her stuff, deciding to leave for class early. Double-checking that she had everything she needed, she bent down to grab her book bag but straightened up immediately.

Something had changed in her dorm room. That feeling was back in the room, that feeling that permeated the apartment while she was getting ready for her date with Tristan the night before. It was almost like there was a different…energy. 

Rory looked down to see that her arms were covered in goosebumps and that feeling was back, that little tingle on the back of her neck that told her she was being watched.

Grabbing her keys and her bag, she turned on her heel and fled the room. 

~~~~~~~~~

There it is! I hope it was alright, it's kind of a filler chapter! And I do realize that I haven't cleared up the whole Tristan meeting Dean thing but I've gotta keep something up my sleeve!!!!!!!

Please review!

Love, 

_The Madster_


	9. Broken

A/N: Alrighty, peeps (lol, what a funny word!). Here is chapter nine, this one's really long and I'm sure that after you read the ending, you'll all want to kill me (either that, or take away my writing utensils! Whatever floats your boat…)

Sorry to **_J_ayde. **Lol, I did thank you twice! Once of us is hyped on java and the other one desperately needs sleep! Sorry again! 

I'm glad to see, as **smile** pointed out, that you guys really like certain sentences or lyrics. Thank you! It really motivates me to pay close attention to my writing and song selections. 

And for my disclaimer: I don't own anything on Gilmore Girls (if I did, CMM would be in every single shot!) Nor do I own _Buddha _(lol!), _Johnny English, _or "Let Me In" by _Save Ferris_ which are all featured in this chapter (good song btw!). Nothing. Zip. Nada.

_Enjoy! _

****

Chapter 9:

Broken

"Lorelai, there you are!" Lorelai cringed as her mother, Emily Gilmore, gave her a stern look. "You're late. Again."

"Sorry, Mom." Lorelai gave her an apologetic look and shrugged her shoulders. "Richard Simmons called me; he has this new workout that he wants me to try. It's called 'Buns of Platinum'. Catchy, eh?" Another firm look. "Then Godzilla decided to take the I95, too, so I was stuck behind his large, green, scaly butt the whole time. And, just to make things worse, this old guy in the car beside me kept giving me these gross looks so I was forced to stop at a costume store so I could travel here safely, in cognito."

"You stopped for coffee again, didn't you?" Emily didn't even bother listening to that manic explanation. She knew her daughter too well. 

_Damn, _Loerlai thought in annoyance. "Now, whatever gave you that idea?" Ever since her parents had agreed to help pay for Rory's tuition at Yale, Lorelai had been forced into these Thursday night dinners. _I could be at home right now, having a mud bath or watching oompa loompas dance across my television screen! _

Emily resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Come into the dinning room, Lorelai. Dinner is served."

After greeting her father and suffering through the six-course meal, Lorelai was relieved to she the top-of-the-line danishes brought to the table.

"So who is this new boy that Rory's with?" Lorelai had been hoping that her mother had forgotten about that phone conversation. _You just had to slip up and tell her didn't you, Gilmore? _She berated herself. _That's it, no more coffee for you!_ Lorelai's eyes widened at her inner-voice's harsh command. _What am I saying? No more coffee?! I deserve the rights to every Second Cup in North America after dealing with my parents for my whole life._

"What's this about a boy?" Richard Gilmore's ears perked up as he surfaced from his paper to ask her that question. "I hope he comes from a respectable family."

"I'm sure he does, Dad." Lorelai replied as she forced a smile. After all, her father was much more harmless than her mother was. "They've only gone on one date, Mom. Although they've set up another one tomorrow."

Emily's eyes widened in shock and pleasure. "Well, what's he like?"

"He's fat, bald, and has a tattoo that says 'Rub My Belly For Good Luck'!" Lorelai saw her father's eyes bulge at her sarcastic remark. "Oh no, wait! That was Buddha."

Emily sighed. "Lorelai, this is a very serious matter."

Lorelai rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I'm not sure what he's like Mom. I haven't met him yet." Emily gave her a disapproving look. "From what Rory has said, I've gathered that he's a very handsome, very well-mannered guy."

"Well, that's delightful!" Richard exclaimed, then leaned forward and lowered his voice as if they were discussing a conspiracy theory. "But what is his family like?"

Resisting the urge to make a comparison between Tristan's family and the Osbournes, Lorelai replied. "I don't know dad, Rory hasn't met any of them yet."

"Oh, well then does he go to Yale? Because that would make him a fine young man."

"No, Dad," Lorelai spoke hesitantly. "Rory said that he never got the chance to go to University, although he's her age. He has a job instead and supports himself." Lorelai, prepared for the worst, silently counted down in her head. _Three…two…one._

"Doesn't go to university?!" Emily squealed. "Well, that simply isn't acceptable. Why ever not?"

"I'm not sure, Mom." Lorelai struggled to reassure her crazy parents. From what she'd heard, Tristan was a really nice guy and she didn't want her parents to get in between Rory and her dream man. "Maybe his family couldn't afford to send him to University."

"That's absurd!" Emily continued. "If that were the case and he truly wanted to go he could have worked hard enough to get the scholarship!"

"This is nonsense!" Richard exclaimed and Lorelai sighed. "What is his name, Lorelai?"

__

Oh no, now he's going to research Tristan's family tree. "Tristan, Dad. Tristan Dugrey."

Instead of another onslaught of more cries of outrage, like Lorelai had expected, there was silence. Absolute, complete, utter silence. Lorelai glanced from one parent to the other as she listened to the grandfather clock's persistent _tick-tock, tick-tock._

Then, Emily leaned closer to Lorelai and spoke in a low, grave voice. "What did you say?"

"Tristan DuGrey. Are you guys not hearing me? I told you that you should invest in earplugs because-" But here parents cut her off.

"Richard!"

"Emily!" They spoke in unison. 

"It couldn't possibly, could it?"

"I think it very well may be."

"Okay, who are you guys and what have you done with my parents?" 

Emily ignored the comment and, instead, asked with wild eyes, "Has Rory described what he looks like?"

"Yeah…She said he was really good-looking. Tall, blonde hair, blue eyes." Her parents looked at her unbelievingly. "Okay, you guys are seriously wigging me out. Tell me what's going on!"

"Lorelai, do you remember Janlen DuGrey? You're father used to do business with him?"

Lorelai racked her brain until she recalled a memory of a caring old gentleman with dancing blue eyes. "Yes, I think so. He was a nice guy but his son was such a jerk!" Lorelai was saddened by her next memory. "Didn't he die a few years ago?"

"Yes," Emily answered solemnly. "The beginning of May in Rory's senior year. He was a charming man –"

"And an incredible business partner!" Her father cut in.

"Yes," Her mother continued. "But you're right Lorelai, his son, William, as well as his wife, are horrid people. Unfaithful, cruel, vain!" Her mother ranted on and Lorelai listened intently.

"William had two sons by two different marriages, they were half-brothers. The first was much older and was bred to be the perfect heir to the DuGrey corporate 'throne'. The second, Priscilla's son, wasn't expected or wanted but, of course, they couldn't abort – what a scandel that would have started! The poor boy was completely neglected, the whole family tried to cover it up but word gets around." _Does it ever, _Lorelai thought grumpily. 

"He became quite reckless and developed a reputation at school, though I believe his behaviour was a cry for help – not that anyone ever listened. William and Priscilla fought constantly at home, insulting each other and their son. They often vacationed in different places and the boy was left completely alone. I would know, one of our servants used to work for the DuGreys and she told me everything.

"Two months before the boy turned eighteen and graduated from Chilton – you remember Chilton, don't you?" Lorelai groaned. Yes, she had suffered a couple years through that terrible school. 

Emily continued with her gossip. "Well, two months before that Janlen took a turn for the worst and died. The boy was absolutely heartbroken; he tried to hide it but we could all see it. He was left with the funeral preparations since both his parents were in Morocco and that was the last place anyone ever saw him."

"What happened to him?"

"Well, when William and Priscilla returned they said that he had been sent to live with relatives in Switzerland but I always had the sneaking suspicion that he had run away. God knows many people would if they were in his position."

"Are you telling me that that boy is Tristan?" Lorelai's heart wept for the poor kid. Was that what he had been keeping from Rory? She could understand why he would be ashamed to talk about it but Rory had the right to know. 

"Quite possibly, Lorelai. I'm almost certain it may be." Emily stopped there, proud of herself for having solved the mystery of Tristan DuGrey. But then she had a thought. "Oh, it turned out that his acceptance letters arrived after he was _sent away_ and he was accepted to Harvard, Princeton, and," Emily paused. "Yale."

"Hmm." Richard mumbled in satisfaction and returned to his paper. Lorelai excused herself, walked out into the back gardens, and pulled out her cell phone. She knew she had heard that name before…

__

I have to tell Rory.

~~~~~~~~

"I loved that part!" Rory exclaimed after the movie, her laughter escaping as she walked leisurely along the street with Tristan, who was busy mimicking Johnny English. 

They came to a street corner where an old lady was standing waiting to cross, and they waited patiently for the light to change. When it was safe, Tristan offered his arm to the old woman, who took it gratefully and slowly ambled across.

"Thank you, my boy. It's quite hard for an old bag like myself to get any help these days." She rasped as they reached the other side of the street.

Rory was busy watching Tristan and thinking about what a sweet guy he was when many things happened at once. 

Tristan, being the comedian that he was, feigned an English accent and said, "The name's Johnny English, ma'am. Secret agent, only here to help the young and beautiful, such as yourself." 

Rory watched, shocked, as the old lady scowled and swung her handbag at his head. It connected with much more force than Rory expected and the old lady shouted, "Why, you chauvinistic pig!"

Then the elderly lady turned towards Rory and spoke vehemently, still swinging that vicious handbag around, and Rory was afraid that she would get a hit, too. "You watch this one, young lady." She motioned toward Tristan, who was looking quite contrite while holding a hand to his head. "He's trouble."

Rory nodded obediently, desperately trying to keep her laughter in check. Luckily, the woman walked away and though Tristan shouted apologies after her, she wouldn't hear any of it. 

Their eyes connected for a minute and silence followed until, finally, Rory burst into a seemingly endless round of giggles. Tears were actually streaming down her cheeks by the time she managed to speak.

"My gosh! That's it! That was _the _funniest thing I have _ever _seen! It just takes the cake!" 

Tristan just stood there with his hand clamped to his hurting head. "I didn't mean to be rude…I really am sorry. I thought it would be funny." That only encouraged Rory and sent her into another bout of laughter.

"I'm sorry." Rory pushed out between breaths. "It's just that…" She had to pause to laugh. "You were beaten by an old granny!" 

"What?!" Tristam exclaimed, fighting to defend himself while they resumed walking. "That was no old granny! That was like Bionic Woman with a senior citizen card! And she must have been caring bricks in her bag with all that superhuman strength because that really hurt!"

Rory stopped walking and put her hand on his arm, halting him in his steps. Turning him so that he was facing her, she gently pushed Tristan back until he was pressed against the brick wall of a building. She stood up on her tiptoes and placed her hands in his hair. "Let me see," she said while pretending to examine his head injury. "Aw, my poor baby was hurt by the mean wittle owld wady."

Rory teased playfully and Tristan pouted. 

"Hey, it hurt a lot!"

"Oh, I'm sure it did." 

Rory found herself struggling to breathe when she felt Tristan gently lay his hands on her waist. She became aware that she was leaning completely against Tristan and she could feel his taut, well built body against hers.

Her senses were on overdrive. She could feel his soft, feathery hair brushing against the palms of her hands, his strong, muscular body holding her up and his heart beating against hers. She cold smell the spicy, faint scent that clung to the air around him and gently tickled her nose. She could hear Tristan's soft breath drift off into the night air and could see his ethereal azure eyes searching her face, searching her soul. 

Rory's own eyes ran over his questioning gaze and fell on his lips. She knew he was asking her, making sure she was ready and she felt an overwhelming urge to brush her lips against his.

Rory realized that she had to end this before her thoughts went any farther. Here they were on their second date yet they were standing in a very intimate position on a public sidewalk.

"We should go and get that coffee before the café closes." Rory suggested.

"Okay." Tristan mumbled, but his voice was soft and he made no effort to move. 

Clearing her throat, Rory stepped out of his embrace. "Follow me!" She ordered playfully with a flourish of her arm, hoping that Tristan would follow with her act. 

Tristan obeyed and resumed walking but his thoughts remained where they had just stood. They had been so close, so close that he could sense her heartbeat and feel her breath brushing against his skin. He had wanted to kiss her then, to throw his cares to the wind and simply be with her. And she had wanted it, too – or at least he thought she had. But just as his eyes drifted to her lips, just as his heart started to race, she had pulled away.

Now she was walking away as if nothing had happened and Tristan followed behind her, discouraged, unsure, and dejected. 

Rory noticed how quiet he was being and stopped, waiting for him to catch up to her, so she could slip her hand in his. "Come on, slow poke! You're the only thing that stands between me and my elixir now! Hmm, which one should I pick?" She pretended to ponder but gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as she pulled him into the café.

Tristan couldn't help but smile. 

~~~~~~~~

'_Severe weather warnings for the areas in and around New Haven. Forecasts shows an approaching storm of fair intensity. Lightning, thunder, hail, and an extensive rainfall are all expected. Although it shouldn't be extremely harmful, citizens are asked to stay inside_…" 

The importantweather forecast emitted by the radio went unheard by most of the customers in the café. Many people had departed, favouring their warm beds over the cool coffee shop but Rory and Tristan were having far too much fun to cut the evening short.

Tristan had insisted on paying for her coffee, as he had for the movie. 

"You got the movie, so I'll pay for the coffee." Rory had offered, but Tristan shook his head.

"No, that's all right. I'll get the coffee."

"But that's not fair to you." Rory argued.

"Sure it is. I insist that I pay." Rory stomped her heel on the floor and glowered at him.

"What?" He had asked, wondering if she really was upset with him. 

"Now I have to accept or else I'll be breaking Gilmore Rule Number 3: 'Never turn down coffee – especially if someone else is paying for it'!" They both laughed but the matter was settled, Tristan paid for the coffees. 

"I guess chivalry isn't dead after all." Rory had joked as they sat down to enjoy their java. 

After examining and imitating the film they had seen together, Rory had gone up to the counter to order one final cup of coffee, to go. 

While she was waiting, Rory reviewed the night in her head and found that she was overjoyed by how well everything had turned out. Other than that awkward moment outside, she had had an amazing time with Tristan.

From her place at the counter, she glanced back at her date, who was sitting at their table waiting for her to return. 

He really was something. Her first impression of Tristan was a handsome guy who was incredibly sweet, but to shy to talk. But after the time they had spent together, Tristan was becoming more extroverted and unreserved. That endearing blush still frequented his cheeks and she noticed how he tended to clam up around strangers, but with Rory he was witty, comical, and a blast to be with. 

Rory studied him secretively as he sat in his chair gazing out the window and rubbing the back of his neck. She had seen the gesture many times and knew that it was something he did when he was tired or tense. When he was nervous, he tended to twirl his grandmother's ring around his finger or run his hand through his hair. 

Rory loved knowing all those little things about him. She could tell that he looked a little drained but a light smile graced his face and she knew he was enjoying himself as much as she was. 

The waitress handing her the coffee interrupted her thoughts and she thanked her for it and returned to the table.

Tristan looked up when he heard heels on tile and he watched, amazed, as Rory approached their table. She had dressed up a little in a knee length black skirt and a pink spaghetti strap shirt and was absolutely stunning. Although her shapely legs drove him crazy, Tristan found that his gaze usually drifted over to her gorgeous smile and those brilliant cerulean eyes. 

She was a natural at making people feel welcomed and comfortable and she exuded a confidant, graceful air that made Tristan feel weak in the knees. Her bright, caring nature and her quirky customs made him feel relaxed and at ease. He could crack jokes and pull imitations knowing that she would never look down on him or judge him. 

Ironically, by getting to know Rory, he was getting to know himself.

His musing ceased when she reached the table and he stood up grabbing her cardigan and his jacket.

"Ready to go?" He asked as he helped her slip on the garment.

"Yes, just lead the way." 

He stepped out of the café and held the door open for her. He immediately sensed the slight change in the evening air. Any normal person could if they tried hard enough, the storm was still far away, but Tristan could feel it without any effort. It was coming in strong and it was definitely going to be big.

"Are you sure you want to go to the pond, Rory? I think there may be a storm coming in." Tristan glanced at her worriedly, he didn't want her to get caught in the rain and get sick.

"Oh, that's all right. A little rain never hurt anyone. And we'll only stay for a little while, okay?" Rory loved the rain, she had always wanted to be one of those people in the movies who get caught in a storm and start dancing. Plus, she didn't want the night to end just yet.

They had crossed the street and were headed toward the park when Rory wrapped her arm around Tristan's waist and leaned against him. He was warm and comfortable and Rory wanted the world to know that she was lucky enough to be with him.

Tristan felt her arm snake around his waist and he felt shock, joy, and excitement flow through him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and held her close as she leaned her head on his chest. They walked at an unhurried pace, just enjoying being with each other.

__

My girlfriend, Tristan thought and the mix of emotions that bombarded him were too much to describe. 

As he led them into the park his attention wasn't on the beautiful scenery, but instead it was focused on the angelic girl who was contentedly wrapped up in his arms. She was so much more than the stereotypical girlfriend, she was an elegant, radiant, extraordinary woman and he knew that he was blessed to be with her right now. He bent down and placed a soft kiss on the crown of her head and leaned his cheek against her hair as they continued on their way.

Rory's heart fluttered when she felt Tristan's affectionate gesture. She snuggled further into his embrace, loving being able to just hide in his arms where she could block out the rest of the world and stay in this fantasy. His warmth flooded her, his heart beat steadily under her hand, and she could've sworn that her feet never touched the ground. Rory was certain that only her boyfriend's tender hold on her kept her from floating away. 

_My boyfriend_, Rory thought and the exhilarating bliss and rapture that soaked into every cell of her was almost too much to take. She hid her smile against Tristan's chest and, tossing her empty coffee cup in a bin they were passing, wrapped her other arm around him and held him tightly the rest of the way. 

Before he knew it, they had arrived at the pond. While Tristan was worrying about disappointing her by asking to stay away from the water, Rory surprised him by pulling him over to a nearby tree and sitting down. He smiled gratefully at her, sat down against the tree, and pulled her to him. 

Rory knew of his fear and wouldn't have dreamt of forcing him near the water, instead she led him to the tree and let him pull her back against him. Their legs became entangled and the warm material of his khakis protected her bare legs. She rested her head on his chest and stared out at the peaceful waters while Tristan's gazed was intently focused on the stars in the sky. Neither of them spoke a word, they didn't have to. 

A heartbeat, steadfast and reassuring, drummed in Rory's ears and Tristan could hear nothing other than the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore and Rory's even breathing. He closed his eyes, leaning his head against hers, and let all his burdens and anxiety fade away.

For a while everything was calm, serene, and…perfect, but that perfection was destroyed by a loud, rumbling clamor. Rory jumped in Tristan's arms and they sat up straight, his arms wounding tighter and protectively around her.

"What was that?" Rory whispered, but before Tristan could answer a flash of bright light split across the sky, casting a fleeting, eerie glow on the tranquil pond and it's surroundings. 

"Rory, lets–" Tristan was interrupted by the sudden downpour of rain. It was coming down heavy and fast and Tristan realized his mistake too late. He had forgotten about the approaching storm and had zoned out, ignoring the feelings that told him that it was about to get serious.

He stood up quickly and pulled Rory to her feet and they huddled under the tree, not sure if they should run out into the shower.

"We have to get out of here, Rory. We shouldn't be standing under tall trees in a storm like this." He shouted to be heard over the terrible storm.

"What do we do, then?" Rory yelled back.

Tristan was silent for a minute. He knew this area well, his apartment was closer to the park than Rory's dorm room was. "We're going to have to make a run for it!" 

Rory shook her head and tightly clasped his hand, ready to follow him wherever he chose to take them. He paused, amazed by her trust at him, and stared deeply at her. A few tendrils of hair had fallen from her ponytail and the wind whipped them harshly around her face. Raindrops fell through the branches and trickled down her skin as her eyes blinked rapidly, struggling to keep the rain out of her eyes. 

Without thinking, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead before pulling her to him. "Everything's going to be okay." He told her; she squeezed his hand tightly and gave him a small smile.

Turning, he pulled her out into the rain and broke into a run, taking them down the quickest route to his building. He was worried about her running on the slick path in her high-heeled shoes but she ran in them expertly, keeping up with him effortlessly.

Soon, they were out of the park and running down the street. Tristan briefly considered taking her into a building to wait it out but his senses were telling him that this was going to be a long storm. He glanced over at her and found that her cardigan and skirt were soaked through and stuck to her skin. Surely she was freezing and at least if they went to his place he could give her a change of warm clothes. 

"It's right around the corner!" Tristan shouted, as they rounded the final stretch and pushed through the doors, stopping inside to catch their breath. 

"Are you all right?" Tristan gazed at her anxiously as both of them heaved for breath. He pulled her into his arms, sighing in relief.

"MmmHmm." Rory mumbled against his chest, but he could feel her huddled figure trembling.

"You're shaking, you must be freezing." He led them down the hallway, never letting her out of his embrace. "Here, come inside."

Keeping one arm around her, he used his free hand to unlock the door and push it open. He ushered her inside and closed and locked the door after following her in, wondering if the goosebumps on her arms where indeed from the cold or the energy change in the room. 

"I'm so sorry, Rory." 

"Hey, i-it's n-not y-y-your fault." Tristan smiled at her as she struggled to appear dignified. "L-last I c-checked, you d—don't c-control the w-weather."

"You're such a goof." He mumbled into her hair as a smile fluttered across his lips. Rory smiled but didn't answer.

Her skirt had ridden up a bit and clung to her legs and her shirt and cardigan stuck to her like a second skin. She was absolutely frozen, but would never admit it. 

She stayed in Tristan's arms as she glanced around the tiny apartment. From what she could see from her place by the door, it was small, and a little old, but homey. It was fairly neat considering it was kept by a guy, there was a little clutter here and there that reminded her of her home back in Stars Hollow, and she could smell that scent that was purely Tristan. She liked it here.

"Come on. I'll get you a change of clothes." Tristan had to get her warmed up fast. Plus, he didn't know how much longer he could look at her while her clothes clung to her every curve and exposed her smooth, tanned skin. He pulled her into the bedroom and Rory surveyed the room. There was a large bed in the middle with a worn, navy blue spread; the closet was on one side with a dresser and on the opposite wall there was a small bathroom and end table. 

Tristan walked through, pulling her into the closet. He clicked on the light and stepped away from her, searching through the somewhat organized shelves, and as he did Rory noticed the way his shirt stuck to his muscular frame outlining every ripple of muscle. He turned his back to her and continued sifting through his clothes and Rory could see the muscles in his back working. She resisted the intense urge to peel the garment off his skin and explore his body with her hands.

Her feverish thoughts were interrupted when Tristan finally fished out an old sleeveless shirt and a pair of sweats. "Here, I'm afraid they're the only thing that might come close to fitting you." He said as he glanced down at her petite frame. 

"That's okay, they're fine." _Better than fine, _Rory thought as she examined the items of clothing, they were tattered and frayed but were also soft and warm. 

She followed him back into the bedroom where Tristan squinted at the clock. "It's 12:30, Rory. I don't think that that storm is going to end anytime soon so you can stay here if you'd like." Rory watched, amused as he looked around nervously avoiding her gaze. 

When she didn't answer he continued on apprehensively. "You can have the bed and I'll take the floor." When she still didn't say anything, he finally looked at her, afraid that he would see tears of despair streaming down her face. 

"Rory? Are you -?"

"We can share." Rory said quietly, motioning towards the bed. She was about to lay down some ground rules when Tristan spoke. "Are you sure your okay with that? I mean, I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything. I –" 

She cut him off by reaching for his hand. "I'm sure." He still looked uncertain so she smiled at him and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

"Okay." They stood quietly for a minute. "I'm just going to grab a change of clothes. You can take the bathroom." 

They went there separate ways and Rory slowly peeled of the new outfit she had been so proud of and threw it over the shower rod, so it would dry. She freed herself of her painful heels and set them on the floor beside the counter. Leaving her underclothes on, she pulled the wifebeater over her head and tugged the sweatpants up, pulling the drawstring tightly to keep them secured. She pulled her wet hair out of the miserable ponytail, tried to run her fingers through it and eventually gave up. Tristan called out to her, letting her know that he was changed and it was safe to come out. 

She exited the bathroom and found Tristan in a similar outfit already in bed. He was leaning back against the headboard, covers pulled up to his waist, and his slightly towel dried hair was already He had turned off the bedroom light but had left a dim lamp on the vacant side of the bed on. Suddenly, she was a bit nervous about sleeping beside him. She new he wouldn't try anything, Tristan was too shy to even kiss her but their relationship was so new and fragile. 

Rory noticed how Tristan hovered to one side, giving her plenty of room, and twirled the ring around his finger. That feeling of nervousness left as quickly as it had come. _This is Tristan, _she told herself as a smile graced her face. 

"You can turn the light off if you want…I wasn't sure if you…" Tristan trailed off, as his cheeks flushed. He had no idea how he was supposed to handle this. He was perfectly content with the thought of sleeping with her wrapped up in his arms, but would that be too much for her?

"No, it's fine." Rory strolled across the room and slid into the bed. Tristan lay back with his shoulder touching the imaginary centre line waiting to see how she'd act. 

Rory shivered in the cool sheets and, pulling the covers up to her chin, and scooted over to Tristan, seeking his warmth. To say that Tristan was shocked when she lay her head on his shoulder would be the understatement of the year, but she curled up against him and Tristan could feel her damp hair and cold feet. He understood that she was still cold and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer and giving her as much warmth as she could. 

Rory sighed contentedly as she shut her eyes to the world and let Tristan's gentle heartbeat lull her to sleep.

~~~~~~~ 

Rory awoke sometime later to the sound of rain beating the ground outside the window. She closed her eyes quickly against the sudden onslaught of light and disorientation flooded her as she struggled to remember where she was. Glancing at the clock that didn't belong to her, she read the glowing red digits.

_1:56 AM._

Why wasn't she in her dorm by this time? Her sleep-fuddled mind had trouble gripping the memories that hung at the back if her mind. She turned around slowly and surveyed the room, trying desperately to remember. 

Suddenly, something kicked against her leg and Rory turned, shocked, to see a mass wriggling under the blankets. She tentatively pulled back the cover to reveal a tuft of wild blonde hair sticking out in every direction. 

_Tristan. _

Instantly, everything came rushing back to her. Memories of their second date, the storm, how caring Tristan had been, and how she had ended up in his bed. Thank God they were fully clothed. At least, she hoped they were…

Her thoughts were interrupted when another limb reached out and hit her again and she was in the middle of grumbling about his bad sleeping habits when Tristan restlessly rolled over. 

__

I've been watching you and all you do for quite some time… 

She froze to study him. His face held a pained, fearful expression and he tossed and turned uneasily. _He must be having a bad dream. _Not knowing what to do, Rory was about to try to get back to sleep when Tristan moved again.

__

Knowing all the ins and outs of you, 

I should have known what was on your mind…

This time he cuddled up close to her, burying his face in her neck. He mumbled and whimpered in his sleep and Rory could feel his lips moving gently across her skin. 

__

But all the world is spinning round and round, 

Inside my head tonight,

The sensation was incredible, but Rory's mind was on other things. She didn't understand what was going on; she didn't know how to stop his soft cries and give him comfort. 

He shifted again in his sleep and another inaudible whimper escaped. Rory's heart broke at the sound and she gently placed a soft kiss on his forehead and caressed his cheek. 

"Everything's going to be okay, Tristan." She repeated his earlier word of solace, hoping that they would ease his weary mind. 

I will fall into the darkness 

And I fear I will never see the light…

Tristan could hear someone whispering in his ears, pulling him out of the terrible dream he had become trapped in. He slowly opened his eyes, squinting in the bright light. He cautiously looked up…and saw an angle. Her dark hair flowed around her shoulders and her troubled, breathtaking blue eyes stared down on him. The bright light came from behind her casting a soft halo around her. 

_Rory._

I've been watching you and all you do for quite some time…

Rory watched as Tristan struggled up from sleep, his beautiful blue eye glancing around, bewildered, and finally coming to rest on her. His golden crown of hair stuck out in a disarrayed, perpetual messand his face contorted into a mask of confusion.

"Rory?" He mumbled softly, sounding like a little boy, and Rory couldn't help but smile down on him in his sleepy daze.

"I'm right here Tristan." 

__

Knowing all the ins and outs of you, 

I should have known what was on your mind…

"Did you have a bad dream?" Rory asked quietly, stroking his jaw.

He nodded slowly. "I can't remember it." He knew he had, but the details where lost as the cloud of sleep retreated, taking them with it. 

"That's okay. It's better that way." She lay beside him again and stared into his scared eyes. "You're safe now."

__

But all the world is spinning round and round, 

Inside my head tonight,

__

The fear fled his eyes and was replaced by a devoted, loving gaze. Rory felt herself come alive under that gaze and her eyes fell to his lips as his fell to hers. Without thinking, Rory found herself leaning in; her eyes drifted shut as she closed the distance between them.

Tristan watched, stunned, as Rory began to lean towards him, but he felt himself respond as his own eyes drifted shut and he too, moved to close the gap that separated him from the only thing he had ever wanted. 

Rory could feel Tristan's breath tickle her chin and she felt her heart race as the last of the distance was shut. His soft lips brushed hers ever so gently, leaving her wanting more. She pressed her mouth to his harder, and her tongue flicked across his lips, seeking entrance, wanting, demanding…

I will fall into the darkness 

The kiss grew in intensity until Rory's world was filled with nothing other than the most heavenly sensations. His soft lips moved against hers and she could savor his gentle, sweet taste. Her hands rushed through his velvety hair, down his taut chest and well-muscled stomach. His fingertips lightly caressed her cheek and trailed down through her silky hair. They came up under her shirt to rest on the soft, smooth, warm skin of her stomach. 

__

And I fear I will never see the light…

The kiss had become too heated, too passionate and it was then that something terribly wrong happened. A flash of light blinked across Rory's eyes and they refused to open, bound shut by some strange outside force. The light played on her eyelids like an old movie on a screen. Slowly, that light condensed, it tediously took shape and gradually formed images. Pictures flashed before Rory's eyes, pictures from a past that didn't belong to her…

__

** There in the middle of the immense, lavish room sat a small boy of about six or seven. He sat alone, clutching an old, worn teddy bear to his little chest, and stared out at the sea of gifts that surrounded him. But he never reached for them, never moved. He had risen early that morning and dressed himself in his holiday suit. He wanted to look good for them, wanted to please them. Wanted them to be proud. 

He ran down the stairs and waited by the piles of impeccably wrapped presents. But they didn't come. They didn't come when it was time for breakfast, nor did they appear when the servants prepared lunch. The boy had refused the meals, staying instead in the vast, empty room, waiting patiently. He sat rocking slowly, waiting for a couple to walk through the door, waiting for that couple to kiss him on the cheek and hold him tight. 

They had been gone for the whole week, but they promised him that they'd be here today. The boy continued waiting, all through the evening, fighting to keep his eyes from drooping shut, telling himself that they'd arrive, any minute now. 

But they didn't. Finally, a maid entered, bent on ordering him to eat something before he went to bed. She found the boy fast asleep on the floor in front of the majestic, roaring fireplace surrounded by a myriad of unopened gifts with that same worn, old teddy bear wrapped up in his arms. Picking the slender child up, she carried him into his extravagant bedroom and placed the tiny body under the covers. 

Brushing the golden hair from his sleeping eyes, she whispered, "Merry Christmas, Tristan." ** 

__

** That same boy again, but this time a bright smile covered his face and his eyes twinkled as he splashed around unsupervised in the water, his happy giggles filled the cool, still air. The pond was big and deep and the boy was happily pretending that he and his loving family had been washed up on a uninhabited island, where they could always live together and would never be separated. He stood with the water up to his tiny waist and watched the little waves lap up against his tummy. 

He spotted the dock that reached out to the center of the pond and wondered what it would be like to jump off it. He made his way to the dock, making sure that no one was watching him. No one ever did anyway. He walked to the edge and let his small toes hang off. Should he do it? Would they be mad? He stopped to think, they never worried about him, why would they care if he got hurt? 

Taking a deep breath, the child leapt off letting his little body drop deep into the waters, confidant that he would float back up to safety. But something went wrong. Something grabbed his arm, something cold and terrible. The boy hated cold. The cold hand pulled him down into the black depths as he tried to kick his way back to the surface. 

He was pulled and turned in a mass of swirling bubbles and came face to face with frigid, dead eyes. The man's rotted skin was cold and clammy and he spoke to the boy, calling his name and shaking him roughly. The boy tried to scream for help but water rushed into his mouth and down his throat. He started to cough and his chest burned; he was choking. The boy's tears were lost in the deep water and the terrible man let go. But it was too late; the world turned back.

The villa staff found him a moment later, saw his little body floating face down in the water. Without hesitation the man dove in, grabbed the child and pulled and lifted him to the safety of the dock. He performed the techniques he had practiced so often, but never had to use before this. The boy spat up water and the man held the shaking child as he began to cry, not because of his near death experience, but because of his first experience with death.

His life was never the same. ** 

** The boy was older now and had entered that terrifying stage of adolescence. His golden hair was a bit longer, his body was taller, stronger, and his features had hardened to become breathtakingly handsome. But something dark was brewing beneath the beautiful exterior, the secret he had kept since that day in the pond.

He was huddled in the corner of his room, eyes squeezed shut, hands pressed to his ears. He couldn't look at her, the ghost standing in the middle of his bedroom screaming a mad, shrieking howl. He couldn't get past her to the door, couldn't go to anyone for help. No one else could see her. 

"What do you want from me?!" The young man whispered in despair as beautiful tears streamed down his beautiful face. The spirit stopped her screaming and turned, her dead eyes searing into his soul. She moved with the swift speed of the dead and suddenly, she was in front of him. She knelt before the frightened boy and reached out a hand, holding it just inches away from his trembling face as if hesitating to caress his soft skin.

Without warning her cold hand was harshly wrapped around his throat, her fingers choking him and her skin bombarding him with terrible images of how she had been attacked, molested, and killed. 

The boy bit hard on his lip till it bled, trying desperately to keep himself from screaming as all the pain she had suffered tore through his body, mentally bruising him to the core. He couldn't let the staff hear; he had to suffer through this alone. 

The boy understood what she wanted and sobbed in defeat. She backed away, her bloody feet leaving crimson impression that evaporated immediately from the glossy floorboards as she herself disappeared. 

He would have to find a way to perform the task this spirit demanded of him, he would have to find a way to cover up the welts and bruises on his throat, he would have to find a way to keep up the charade of his perfect life. But for now, he hugged his knees to his chest, curled up into a little ball and cried himself to sleep. **

The light…

Rory's eyes snapped open and she frantically pushed away from Tristan. Her eyes flitted everywhere, wild with fear. 

What had just happened? How had a simple kiss escalated into that? What were those images, those pictures… those memories? 

__

So let me in, 

Tristan knew why she had ended the kiss. He had seen it too; his terrible memories that he wished to forget replayed so vividly. He had no idea how it had happened, the intensity of the kiss must have opened something, linked them somehow; never before had he had a physic connection with anyone. 

__

All that I wanted from you

Was something you'd never do, 

He reached for her and Rory saw his hand just inches from her skin. She couldn't let him touch her; she didn't want him coming near her.

"Stay away from me!" Rory shouted as she jumped off the bed.

__

So let me in,

Oh please tonight, 

Tristan just stared at her, shocked and hurt beyond belief. _No, _he told himself, _Rory wouldn't say that. _The thought was comforting but the look on her face broke his heart. He tried again, this time getting up from the bed and trying to wrap his arms around her. 

__

Don't let this end, 

Tonight,

"Don't touch me!" She was shrieking now, desperately searching for a way to get past him to the door. Those images, those spirits…

I'll fall… 

She shuddered. "What are you?!"

Tristan could see the raw fear in her eyes. "Rory, it's just me. Tristan."

"I don't know who you are." She uttered, her voice quiet and grave.

__

Through the light the darkness seems to be

So very strong,

Rory saw the crushed look on his face and she hated putting it there. She hated thinking about that sweet, shy Tristan hurting because of her but this person before her wasn't that guy.

"I'm just…different, Rory. I…" Tristan was trying to put all of his love and hope into his voice, tried to comfort her and make her see that he was still the same Tristan.

"You what?" Rory demanded and her voice was tight with anger and fear.

"I…you wouldn't understand…I…" Tristan felt his hope slipping away with every second that passed.

How does one alone against the world

Find the strength to carry on? 

"What?!" Rory was practically screaming at him, she didn't know what he was but she sure as hell wasn't going to stay with him.

"I see…" Tristan found that he was having trouble breathing. "I see…the dead." 

She didn't scream, she didn't throw anything, she didn't run. She just stood there, not sure if she should believe him. She thought back to all times when she same him staring at thin air, she thought back to his weary, tired appearance, and those terrible creatures in those images. 

"Stop lying to me."

__

What happened to the way we used to love?

It seemed as though life had just begun, 

"I'm not lying, Rory, I swear!" His voice was high and desperate but now it sunk to just above a whisper and he lowered his gaze to the floor. "When we kissed…those things that you saw…" He raised his head, looking her in the eye hoping to make her understand. "Those are my memories."

It made sense, that was the most terrifying part, everything he said made sense. Every cell in her body told her that what he was saying was true. But if it was then he was a monster. 

__

But now that love has come and gone to fade away

Like the setting sun,

She couldn't think of Tristan as a monster, she had to reject his explanation. "I don't –"

Before she could finish the bathroom door slammed shut. Rory screamed and jumped back as it was torn open again and the light began flicking on and off. Tristan could see Mary there glowering at Rory, standing ramrod straight with her hand on the switch, turning the light on and off. On and off. Tristan knew that she was trying to help him, that she was trying to make Rory understand that he was telling the truth but he could see the wild look of fear in her eyes. 

'Cause you won't let me in,

"Mary, stop that!" He ordered harshly, reaching once again for Rory.

But she recoiled. "I said, _don't touch me!"_ The lights continued to flickered and Rory felt tremendous fear rushing through her. She had heard Tristan yelling towards the bathroom, but there was no one there. No one visible. Rory paled and backed away further. 

All that I wanted from you

Was something you'd never do,

"Mary, _stop!" _Tristan thundered and just like that the lights went out. "Rory, you have to under-"

"I said stay away from me." Her voice was low and her angry eyes burned into his with an overpowering look of fear and disgust. "I don't want you to try to speak to me, I don't want you to try to come near my dorm, and I don't want you to ever touch me again."

So let me in,

Oh please tonight, 

With that she calmly walked past him and out of the room. On the outside she looked cool and collected, but on the inside she was angry and scared and trying desperately not to cry.

Dont let this end tonight,

'Cause I'm starting to fall… 

Tristan stood there completely shocked as a single tear rolled down his cheek. He had seen it again, that look of hatred, disgust, …and fear. And it hurt so much to hear it from the girl who he cared for, the girl who he thought cared for him.

But she did care, she had. He had to make her see that he was that same person that she had laughed with, went out with, and smiled at. 

He tore through the apartment, rushing to catch up with her, see was already down the hall, approaching the exit doors. He followed her out into the rain, the cold, angry rain. He hated the cold. 

__

So let me in… 

She was just a few feet ahead of him. "Rory, please wait!" He called desperately. She stopped. "Rory, you were the only one I thought I could trust! I'm sorry I didn't tell you before but I didn't want you to hate me…I didn't want you to be afraid of me." Tristan shouted out to the night as the rain continued to soak through their clothes. She was standing with her back to him and could see the harsh rain dripping off her beautiful figure.

He spoke bravely, for the first time in his life struggling to show someone how much he cherished them. 

Rory could here the complete anguish in his voice and she arduously shrugged it of.

"I care for you, Rory…I really do. And I thought you cared for me." 

She turned slowly and the eyes that looked upon him weren't those beautiful sapphire eyes that he loved more than anything. Her eyes were cold and hard, filled with revulsion, abhorrence, and fear. Tristan could feel that terrible cold leaking into him, permeating to his heart and soul. 

__

It was all that I wanted from you, 

"I've already told you, I don't want to see you ever again." She turned to walk away. 

"But Rory, I lo-"

She cut of his confession, walking briskly bare foot down the street. "Stay away from me you, you freak."

It was something you never knew, 

And that was all it took to destroy him, to completely crush his last tiny tendril of hope, to utterly break his faith. To kill him. 

Rory waited to she rounded the corner, until she was out of his sight to let the tears fall. The anger, fear, and pain came rushing out in a mad torrent of sobs but they gave her the determination to run home, to crawl into her bed where she could try and erase this night from her memories. 

__

To let me in, 

Tristan stood in the rain, exactly where she had left him, head hung in despair. Never in his life, through all the terrible things he had suffered, all the death and pain, had he ever imagined that he could hurt this much. He let the cold rain run off him, letting it take his tears, letting it carry away his hopes for happiness and all his pathetic dreams about having someone to love him. No one ever would, he was a freak, he had known that all along but had fought to forget it, hoping that he could become a better person for her. But she knew, she saw what he was, and she had flinched and shrank back from his touch as if he were a monster. 

__

But not tonight, 

Tristan couldn't make himself move, couldn't turn around and enter the safety of his apartment, his refuge where he could hide from the world. His tears intensified and grew to tearing, racking sobs that shook his body until he could no longer stand. He let his legs buckle, dropping slowly to the ground and wrapped his arms around his legs, curling up into a ball. 

For this is the end,

Tonight, 

He let the rain and his tears cleanse him, and they receded hours later, leaving only a raw, broken shell of a man in their path.

I fall…

~~~~~~~~

Voila, I know that that was long and intense and in took me _forever _to write. I'm talking hours here, people. J Anyways, I hoped it was okay, and I promise you that within the next chapter you'll find out where Tristan saw Dean and the events that followed thereafter. 

Please review, cuz, although I've got the whole story figured out, I between working, baby sitting, and preparing for a month-long trip I'm kinda losing my inspiration to post…

Love, 

__

Madzinski 


	10. Hindsight

A/N: **OH MY GOD!!!!!!** THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS!!! 102! WOW, I CAN FEEL THE INSPIRATION FLOWING RIGHT BACK INTO ME! LOL**! I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH** and as a reward for reviewing so much, here's the 10th (wow!) chapter! 

Wow! I need to calm down! Lol! Okay for my disclaimer: I (still) don't own anything related to Gilmore Girls nor do I own "Breathe" by Greenwheel (it's a good song, listen to it if you can – it'll help you get the mood) and I borrowed some info on ESP from . I'm telling you now that I didn't ask for permission to use it and none of it's mine - I give complete credit to C.S. Shah – the writer.

__

Enjoy!

****

Chapter 10:

Hindsight

The morning was bleak and dreary; haunting gray clouds invaded the skies and a light mist hung low in the damp air. People could almost sense the feeling of hopelessness that saturated every minute, every second. Their steps were a little more slower; their frowns a bit heavier.

Tristan didn't mind, in fact, he was certain that that feeling was leaking out from him, pouring off him in waves that overpowered every shred of hope and destroyed every dream of happiness.

He lay unmoving in the middle of his bed; the shade was drawn, darkness ruled. He had finally found the inspiration to get up off the curb, to take his drained, filthy body back into the safety of his little world. 

Hours had passed, the seconds dropped away with the rain and his tears; he had never cried so much in his life. But now everything was gone, his tears, his hope, his reason for living. 

He felt dry. Desiccate, withered. Like something that had been left out in the Sun for too long. He was almost afraid that if someone touched him he'd crumble into dust, disintegrate into nothingness. But in all honesty, he didn't have to worry about that; no one would touch him, he wouldn't let them.

So he stayed in the darkness, waiting for hours for a second to tick by. At first, the overwhelming silence surrounded him, protecting his weary mind and body. And he was thankful for it. It made him feel like he was in a glass display case, people could look at him, they could criticize and wonder, but they would never be able to reach him. They would never touch him, they would never know his secrets or be able to destroy that fictional world of serenity that he withdrew to. 

In the dark room, he could barely make out shapes, the only movement was the slight rise and fall of his chest, the only sound was that of his own ragged breathing. He was safe here, he could pretend that everything was calm, peaceful, and still.

But then that numbing cold invaded, slowly creeping up on every side of him, soaking through his clothes, beneath his skin, leaking into his mind and finally paralyzing his heart. 

The silence grew and grew until it appeared to have substance, almost like he could reach out and touch it. It seemed to fill up the room, to settle on his skin, bearing down on him with enough pressure to make him break. 

And suddenly, all at once, it wasn't a friend, it wasn't protecting him. Nothing was, he had no defenses, no dignity, no hope. It was choking him, just like the water had that day at the villa when he was six, the day he saw a spirit for the first time. 

He remembered the terrible black, murky waters, as cold as ice, soaking through his clothes, brushing against his skin, rushing down his throat. He remembered a terrible burning in his lungs and those eyes; those eyes that had haunted his dreams for weeks afterwards. It was because of that day, that first experience with the other side, that Tristan couldn't stomach the idea of putting his body in anything deeper than a bath tub. The dark depths of water held far too many secrets. 

The ghost's hands had gripped his thin arms tightly, shaking him and keeping him locked in the harrowing depths, and his voice spoke his name. He remembered trying to scream and gagging as the water poured down his throat, he remembered feeling suffocated, strangled. He felt the ghostly hands let go of him as he passed out, and the next thing he knew a man was carrying him, rushing him back into the villa.

Many pairs of hands reached out to change his clothes and take his temperature. A doctor was called and, though he could give no explanation for the bruises on Tristan's arms, his prognosis was positive: with a little rest, Tristan would be as good as new. But he never got a good night's rest again. A maid had rocked him for hours while he sobbed as memories of the man brought fresh tears to his face; he refused to go to sleep because he was terrified he would see that man again. He had begged for his mother but his parents had left for a two-night stay in the city, and didn't find the matter important enough to cut their visit short. So he spent the night curled up in the maid's lap, watching every shadow, listening to every noise.

Just like today. 

He couldn't take the silence anymore, could no longer stand the memories. Moving for the first time since settling into his bed at six this morning, Tristan wearily leaned over and switched on the radio. He had to fill the silence with something, had to force back the walls of quiet. 

A song filtered through the speakers, the soft guitar chords banishing the absolute quiet to the darkest corners of the room. 

__

I played the fool today

And I can see us vanishing into the crowd.

Longing for home again,

But home is a feeling I've buried in you. 

The words floated to his deaf ears and broke the barrier, penetrating to his very core. They reminded him of someone, someone who he was desperately trying to forget and, at the same time, was holding on to memories of like a drowning man clings to a life preserver.

The thought of her, of her beautiful eyes, her brilliant smile, her stunning soul was all that it took to break his numb shield. That coating of passiveness, that frigid glass, that cold overlay that sheltered every inch of him broke. It shattered and fell all around him and, as fresh tears that he didn't know he had poured down his cheeks, he felt exposed, vulnerable, naked. 

__

I'm all right,

I'm all right,

It only hurts when I breathe…

He could see her face in his mind and he had to close his eyes at the onslaught of pain that bombarded him along with that angelic image. Bittersweet memories of their time together flashed through his mind, reminding him of the precious gift that he had let slip through his fingers, but he allowed his mind to wander to a better place.

She was smiling at him in his daydream, like she used to, and he could feel his knees go weak and his palms become sweaty. But he also felt that fear, that pain, that loneliness lift until he was so light that he was sure he could have floated. 

But then that smile contorted into a fearful grimace and her once bright, beautiful eyes darkened until they were almost black with disgust. And once again, all his troubles came crashing back down on him with a force so strong that it left him fighting for breath. 

__

I can't ask for things to be still again,

No, I can't ask for you to offer the world through your eyes.

Longing for home again, 

But home is a feeling I've buried in you.

His lungs begged for air but he didn't have the strength to inhale, to raise his lungs and just breathe. 

He felt like some poor, pathetic creature lost in a sea of despair, bashed against the rough rocks at the bottom of a domineering cliff. Each time he got the courage, each time he found his hope, the sea came crashing down on him, reminding him of who he was, pushing him back below the surface and into this dark, tumultuous world. 

And between each harsh, crushing wave he glanced up and caught a glimpse of what life was like on the top of that cliff. They had some tough times, but those people were living, smiling and embracing each other happily, never noticing the lone figure, bruised and broken at the bottom, who's only dream was to be part of it all. 

I'm all right,

I'm all right,

It only hurts when I breathe.

I'm all right,

I'm all right,

It only hurts when I breathe…

Except for her. She stood at the edge, never having been to his world but no longer belonging among the ignorant, existing somewhere in between. She stood watching with cautious, attentive eyes as he struggled to survive. She never reached out a hand to help but neither did she mock or run from him, she just stood there, taunting him, showing him what he could have if he was worthy enough to complete the journey. 

But that cliff face, that passage to normalcy, was too smooth, too steep. There was no way that we would make it to the top.

Or could he? She had made him wonder and he had given it a shot, had really tried. He never gave up, just kept climbing, against the odds. And he had made it half way; he was the highest he had ever been. But then she looked at him, with that fear in her eyes, and he faltered, he slipped, and suddenly he was free falling, spiraling back down into that dark frigid world with nothing to break his fall.

My window through which nothing hides and everything sings,

I'm counting the signs and cursing the miles in between home...

The impact was like nothing he could ever imagine. The pain of losing everything that he had fought so hard for, of getting so close to that world that he forgot who he really was and being reminded again was simply devastating.

But home is a feeling I've buried in you,

That I've buried in you…

Now he was floundering helplessly in the what-ifs and could-have-beens. He was drowning in the pain that had surrounded him his entire life. For as long as he could remember he had struggled to keep memories of being neglected as a child, memories of experiencing the pain of death from every ghost that had every touched him at bay. Time had been chipping away at his carefully built stone wall but this morning had been the final blow. 

__

I'm all right,

I'm all right,

It only hurts when I breathe.

Everything was released in a rushing torrent of agony and no matter how hard he tried to keep his head above the water, he was sinking fast.

Tristan felt a hand on his shoulder. Against his wishes, hope swelled in his heart as he rolled over, wiping the tears from his eyes. 

"Ro-"

He cut himself off there when he saw who was standing in front of him. He couldn't speak her name just yet.

He could feel this incredible pain shot through his heart as Mary gave him a sad, reassuring smile. Her little hand slipped into his and she gave it a tight squeeze. Tristan opened his mouth to speak to her, to tell her that he was okay even though he felt like he was dying. But nothing came out, or no words, at least. 

More sobs, weaker this time, wrenched through him and he turned away in shame, trying to muffle them with his pillow. 

I'm all right,

I'm all right,

It only hurts when I breathe.

It was the worst move he could have possibly made. The pillow he buried his face in had been the pillow she had slept on the night before. He could tell by the faint scent of peaches that clung to it.

He had to get out of here; he couldn't stay where everything reminded him of her. 

He crawled off the bed and stumbled into his bathroom, but before he could inspect his red, puffy eyes and broken expression his eyes landed on her clothes. Her outfit from the night before was hanging over the shower rung, her hair tie was on the counter, and her shoes were on the floor. 

He couldn't bring himself to touch any of them, he could only stare as his crying intensified and just breathing became laborious. She was everywhere, haunting him, tormenting him. He couldn't take this anymore; he had to leave, had to find a place that could calm him down, where he could rest. 

He changed directions and headed for the closet but he was so exhausted that picking up his feet seemed to take a Herculean effort. He grabbed a heavy jacket, it had always been too big for him, and threw it on. Flipping the collar up, he grabbed a ball cap and shoved it on his head. He buried his hands in his pocket and hunched over a little, hiding his face. He wouldn't speak to anyone, wouldn't wave, and he certainly wasn't going to touch anyone. 

When I breathe,

Yeah, it only hurts when I breathe,

As he rushed out of the apartment, he realized that his motive for hiding had change. He didn't want to hide anymore because he wanted to be safe, wanted to avoid being hurt. Now, he hid because he didn't want other people to get too close, to be put in danger, and to experience the constant fear that came with being with him. 

Maybe she was right. Maybe he was a monster, maybe he was a freak. But no matter what he was, he wouldn't touch anyone. He didn't want anyone to get hurt.

When I breathe,

It only hurts when I breathe…

~~~~~~~~~~

Rory's eyes burned. It may have been from the lack of sleep, it may have been the result of endless hours of reading and researching in the library. Or it may have been because of the tears that were raining down her face at the moment. 

She wasn't really sure. 

She began to dig through the pockets of her jacket, searching for a tissue to wipe away the traces of her guilt.

Today she had researched and learned everything about Extra Sensory Perception, she had read up on clairvoyance, telepathy, and psychokinesis. She learned more than she could ever imagine on those topics but along the way, something else happened. Today she realized what a horrible person she was. 

It had taken her an hour to read one page as her tears blurred the words when the realization hit her. 

But it was all too much to take at once. 

Rory, although she had chosen the exciting world of journalism, was a scientist at heart. For her, there had to be a logical explanation for everything, anything could be proved or disproved with solid data. In the world of science, there were procedures that were easily laid out and completed, rules that had to be followed, and laws that couldn't be broken. 

Everything had a purpose; if there was something you didn't understand, it could be carefully dissected and examined. Everything could be based upon cold, hard facts.

Rory had loved the thrill of science class back in high school. The smells, the equipment, and, most importantly, the regulations. Those rules kept everything together, kept everything flowing smoothly, kept everything safe.

She had always been afraid of the unknowns. For some people, those unknowns were the wild, free side of a strict world; they thrived on completing experiment after experiment to understand why and how the specimen functioned. But they always came out empty-handed in the end. 

Rory hated not knowing something; she hated it when she couldn't understand, when no one could understand. Those hidden, unrevealed cases were inconstant, unascertained, and frightening.

She loved it when everything worked out perfectly, when everything fit just right, when everything made sense. But this whole day hadn't made sense. 

She thought back to how perfectly the night had started out; the movie, the coffee, Tristan clowning around, and their easy banter. Then the evening had mellowed out and they were just a devoted couple wandering through a park, laying down to relax in each other's arms. Even the storm hadn't tarnished their time together. 

She smiled as she remembered the two of them running through the rain, hand in hand, to arrive safely in his apartment where Tristan had pulled her freezing body to him and lovingly called her a goof. Her smile grew when she recalled him giving her a change of clothes and shyly offering his bed, insisting that he'd spend the night on the floor if it would make her comfortable. 

But what she remembered most was the way he had wrapped his arms around her as she curled up next to him and lay her head on his shoulder. His strong arms held her gently but tightly; he didn't treat her like an extremely fragile china doll, but neither did he suffocate her with possessiveness. He just held her safely, like he couldn't believe that she was with him, like he was trying to treat her with the utmost respect and devotion. Like he was trying to be the best person he could be, for her.

And she had shot him down. Just like that. 

Rory had never really been open to the idea of ghosts but she had always wished that she could see an angle. She wanted to know if they really had to earn those soft, feathery wings, and if they really wore halos, crowns of beautiful shimmering light, above their heads. 

She'd never met anyone who had personally seen a ghost but she had seen it once in a while on television. Why had she found it so hard to accept the fact that Tristan saw them?

Then she remembered, with haunting clarity, the way Tristan had said it. 

_"I see…the dead."_

It wasn't spoken as if he had seen a ghost once. It didn't seem to phase him at all, it was almost like it was…normal for him. 

Her most vivid memory of this morning was their incredible first kiss and the terrible images that it unleashed. His memories, Tristan had said and Rory couldn't bear to think about him suffering through those horrible things she had seen.

She remembered the first of the three flashes, of Tristan when he was about six. She could still picture that magnificent house clearly; it was like his memories had become her own, locked in her mind only to be replay every time she closed her eyes. She remembered all of the little boy's feeling, his excitement, his eagerness, his hope. It was Christmas, the domineering mansion seemed a little brighter than usual with all of the decorations the servants had set up. The eggnog was ready, the snow was falling, and the presents were wrapped, waiting to be opened. 

There was only one thing the young Tristan had needed to make it all perfect. His parents. She remembered feeling disappointment, his disappointment, because they had been away for the whole week and he was left alone. She remembered feeling sure that they would come this year, they had promised. 

For Rory it was something like watching herself act in a movie. She was on the outside, looking in, watching the lonely little boy sit quietly for hours, determined to make his parents proud. But she was also there, inside him, the shy little kid who wanted nothing more for Christmas than to hear his parents say "I love you" like all the other parents did in the fairy tales. 

Finally, she felt his hope dying as his eyes finally felt shut, against his wishes, at nine o'clock. But there was something else, too, and as Rory lay in her bed that morning it had taken her hours to figure out what it was. Failure. Tristan, on Christmas day when he was six years old, had finally realized why his parents had always made promises they never kept or had the maid send him to his room when he was simply trying to talk to them. 

They didn't love him, not one bit. The little boy was shut out from the people who had created him, he was pushed away, rejected, slighted, and was left completely alone. And, most terrible of all, he was sure it was his fault, it was heartbreaking to know that he was certain that if he wasn't such a failure his parents would be proud of him, would love him. 

It was a feeling that was completely foreign to Rory and she was beyond thankful. 

She found herself curled up in a dark corner of the library, sobbing, as she thought about that little unloved boy and the cautious, reserved man that he had grown to become, the man that she had crushed that morning. 

Terrible guilt rushed through her. How could she have done that to him? How could she have been so heartless? So cruel? Tristan was the sweetest, most caring person she had ever met. She understood why he was so bashful now, why he was so afraid to open up. His whole life he had been abandoned, ridiculed, and belittled; he had never received the love that he longed so much for. 

And she could see it now, the severe brutality of her actions. He had finally thought that he could trust someone, someone that he could love and could love him back. But she had criticized him, she had scorned and degraded him, called him horrible things and then left. She abandoned him just like everyone else he tried to love had. 

But she had been so shocked, so afraid. Her rational mind retreated deep inside and her instincts took over. 

Rory had heard about some drive that all people have, some switch that flicks on when it's needed. The flight or flight response. It gave you a burst of adrenaline and you acted on autopilot. That adrenaline, that rush of power, would give you strength if you decided to stay and fight or would empower you if you decided to run.

And that's what she had done. She had seen those terrible images and her first thought was to get away, to survive. She had moved as fast as she could, said whatever she had had to say to get out of there alive. She didn't stop to think about consequences or regrets, she just flew. It was her automatic defense system: she didn't want to get hurt, so she pushed people away. 

Rory stared down gloomily at the forgotten reference book in her lap; the bright yellow pages of the glossary stared back at her, mocking her. 

She had skimmed through each section of the book, searching desperately for any kind of data that would completely disprove or confirm the existence of ghosts. But to her dismay, there wasn't any. Ideas and their significance were left half explained; a hypothesis was never given a complete, valid, satisfactory conclusion. But Rory desperately needed concrete clarification.

After hours of pouring through volume after volume, Rory had finally found something that gave her a bit of reassurance. Clairvoyance. It was what she wanted, what she needed; a term that could be applied to the situation. Something steady, something certain. 

Giving up on books for a while, she had turned desperately to the computers, hoping against hope that she could find something. Amazingly, she did. 

**__**

Parapsychology:   
Parapsychology is the study of the ability of the mind to perform psychic acts without any known physical energy acting as the carrier of the information or force. Psychic phenomena, as the term is applied to the human mind, generally fall into two broad categories:   
1) **Psychokinesis** is defined as the ability to move or alter animate or inanimate matter by thought alone.   
  
2) **Extrasensory perception** (ESP) is defined as the ability to acquire information without the benefit of the senses.   
Extrasensory perception is further divided into two sub-categories:   
**a) Telepathy:**   
It means the perception of someone else's thoughts by intercommunication between one brain and another by means other than that of the ordinary sense channel. It has bearing on all psychic phenomena. Many cases are on record where vivid impressions have been transmitted from a distance. It is believed that telepathic communication goes direct from one mind to another irrespective of the distance. The mechanism of telepathy is generally supposed, so far, to be in the form of yet unknown ethereal vibrations or "brain waves".   
**b) Clairvoyance:**   
Clairvoyance or 'remote perception' is 'sensing of an object or event out of range of the senses'. The term denotes the supposed supernormal faculty of seeing persons and/or events which are distant in time and place, and of which no knowledge can reach to the seer or perceiver through the normal sense channel.   
It was the only thing she could find that even came close to describing Tristan, but it helped her relax, helped her breathing to calm and her hands to stop shaking. 

That's all clairvoyance is: a higher level of perception. A part of the brain that lay dormant in most people became active within clairvoyant people. It was a known fact that humans only use about ten percent of their brain, but who knew what the other ninety percent was capable of? Anything was possible.

Rory's scientific side took over. In theory, certain areas of Tristan's brain were more alert than most people's. Just like some regions in a mentally handicapped person didn't function as well as the average human's did, Tristan's operate better. 

Her theory was carefully thought out, rational, concrete, and Rory felt that last bit of doubt and disbelief drain away. 

But the fear was still there, a little bleep of horror that grew stronger every time she closed her eyes and those images returned. It wasn't a fear of Tristan, she understood that now. It was a fear of those terrible creatures she had seen and the horrifying pain that they inflicted on her in that brief moment, that she knew they had inflicted on Tristan for his whole life. 

She had seen the frightened little boy who had almost died in the second image. She had seen the harsh, dark bruises on his skinny arms and had felt his hoarse sobs tear through her. She had watched him flounder in the water until the lack of oxygen made him pass out and she finally understood why he was so deathly afraid of water. She had watched as he stayed awake in the slumbering maid's lap, alert and watching, until the first weak rays of sunlight leaked into the room. 

The worst of all the images was the third. Rory cringed when she thought about the ghost at the bottom of the lake, the first ghost Tristan had ever seen. But the spirit of the woman in the last flash had made Rory feel sick to her stomach. The light sundress she had been wearing the night she died was now torn, dirty, and covered in blood. Every visible inch of skin was bruised, swollen, and caked with dry blood. 

The image had hit close to home for Rory; her biggest fear about moving to New Haven was being alone and lost in a new city and risking the chance of being attacked while walking the unfamiliar streets alone at night. She always walked with someone she could trust and she always carried pepper spray in her purse. She had never, ever wanted to experience the true horror of being raped. 

But this morning, she had. She could feel the rough hands on her, pulling and hitting and hurting. She had felt the cold night air all around her and the hard ground beneath her. She had barely been able to see the attacker through the woman's tears, her tears, but she could feel. God, she could feel, and that was the most terrible part of it all. 

People run from their attackers, they do whatever they had to do to get away from the person who was trying to hurt them. Even though Rory knew Tristan would never intentionally hurt her, in a way, he had been her attacker. His hands had never touched her in anything other than the most devoted way, but he was the gateway, the link to those awful images, those sickening feelings. 

The whole ordeal, the aching bruises that weren't there, those brutal, violating hands, the incredible pain, and the overwhelming fear were all packed into one millisecond, but Rory couldn't stand it. 

And somehow she knew that For Tristan it had been much longer, much worse. She wondered how many similar experiences Tristan had survived through. She knew that if it were to happen to her again she would break, just fall apart. 

More tears slowly made their way down her cheeks as her thoughts remained with that morning's events. 

Through all of the terrible things she had witnessed today, one image could not leave her head. The one image that had left her sobbing for hours as she lay exhausted in her bed, the image that made her heart break over and over again: The look on his face when she called him a freak. 

His exquisite blue eyes had widened slowly in shock and disbelief, his jaw dropped as he stared at her despondently. But then his wide fearful eyes sank down in acceptance and shame, as if he were acknowledging those false, malicious words coming out of her mouth as being true. She was quickly backing away, but she didn't miss his expression. His beautiful face was crestfallen, dispirited, and heartbroken. He looked utterly and completely destroyed. 

And it was her fault. Rory was about to run out of the library so she could break down in the privacy of her room, when the screen caught her eye. She had scrolled down to the bottom and slowly began to read one of the last paragraphs.

_Last, but not the least, there is a possibility of developing such a capacity in the course of evolutionary psychology by which the basic human nature is likely to acquire such intuitive powers capable of transcending the limitations of mind and body. Many great saints have shown in their lives that creativity and spirituality happens when the five senses are left behind and something else takes over. That 'something else' is the "factor X"-- the sixth sense.   
_Rory gasped. Not because of the frighteningly unusual information she had just read, but because of something else. 

She had just realized that she couldn't think badly of Tristan, not one bit; that she didn't care if he had that sixth sense. She realized how unbelievably sorry she was and how deep her guilt went. She realized how much she wanted to be with him, wrapped up in his arms, in this instant and how much she never wanted to see that pained expression on his face again. 

She realized how much she loved him.

She, Rory Gilmore, was in love with Tristan DuGrey, and she wanted to tell him, right now. 

It came over her like a gentle wave laps against your skin, like a light breeze brushes against your face. She just knew, and she had never felt more sure of anything in her life. 

It was a calm, peaceful feeling but at the same time it was a mad exhilarating rush that gave her boundless strength and courage. 

Suddenly she was running, tearing out of the library and pounding down the street. She had to tell him now, she had hear him speak the words that she couldn't wait to speak to him, she had to see that light back in his eyes. 

She ran without thinking, her feet moving her to her destination as quickly as they could. She didn't care about anything that had happened this morning, she didn't care about how frightening those terrible beings that haunted him were. She cared about one thing and one thing only. Loving him.

The evening sun had already begun setting, but Rory didn't notice that the sky was as red as blood. She was the highest she had ever been. She loved someone, completely and truly loved someone and for the first time in her life she wasn't afraid to say it.

She raced down the street to his apartment building and pounded down the hall to his door. She stopped there, resisting the urge to barge through it, and caught her breath. She realized that she was in a pair of old jeans and a faded t-shirt, that her hair was an absolute disaster and that her face was probably still puffy from all the crying that had ceased only moments ago. 

But she didn't care. She'd live in a potatoe sack for the rest of her life as long as she could be with him. A bright smile pulled at her lips and she didn't try to hide it. She took a deep breath, the excitement of love colouring her cheeks, and knocked on the door. 

Rory, as she waited apprehensively for the man she loved to open the door, thought about all the things she had to say to him. She would apologize and beg for forgiveness, she would confess her love and hope to hear the same from him, but she knew that first she would kiss him. To show both of them that the magic was there, that it was real.

She paused in the middle of her deliriously happy thoughts and saw that the door had yet to open. Her heart sank as she realized that she hadn't heard any noise from within the apartment.

Tristan was angry with her, she thought. He had every right to be after hearing all those unjust things she had said to him. But she had to make him understand that she was beyond regretful, she had to show him that none of the things she had said were true, that she never had and never would believe them to be true. She had to show him how much she wanted to be with him, to be his. 

"Tristan, it's Rory. I can understand if you don't want to speak to me but you have to –" Rory stopped herself mid-sentence. While she had been speaking, her hand had drifted down to the doorknob. She couldn't stop fidgeting and her hand started playing with and twisting the knob, but then the strangest thing happened. The door opened.

Rory froze as that feeling of fear invaded her once again. There was a peculiar feeling in the air that made the tiny hairs on her bare arms stand on end. She cautiously stepped in and observed the small, vacant apartment. She thought back to last night and how Tristan had had to unbolt the door and then locked it behind them. Tristan never left the door unlocked. 

Something was terribly wrong.

Rory stumbled back, out of the apartment and down the hall. She had to get to him, had to warn him.

She could feel it again.

Something bad was about to happen.

~~~~~~~

Tristan could almost feel the ghost. He wasn't here, but Tristan could tell now by the dark feeling that permeated the spot, their spot, that this spirit frequented it regularly.

He had walked quickly all the way here, never exchanging any words with anyone, and always keeping every piece of his skin covered that he could. Even now he couldn't bring himself to pull his hands out of his pockets. 

He stood on the grass, examining the seemingly peaceful water. This was the last place he had wanted to come, it held the most memories, brought him the most pain. But when his tired feet finally slowed to a stop and he realized where he had ended up, he couldn't bring himself to leave.

Even though they had only been there twice, the happiest moments of his life had happened here. Laughing together, walking hand in hand, lying down on the soft grass wrapped in each other's arms. He could almost hear her laughter float to his ears, soft and sweet and only a memory.

He felt his eyes burn and water but he refused to let the tears fall. He had to be strong; he had to get used to this. This is how it always had been and how it always would be for him. Alone.

She would forget about and move on. She would find another man, someone who would be far more deserving of her, and she would be happy. He would become only a mistake, a memory that she would refuse to acknowledge, a disgusting secret that she would never tell anyone. She would forget about him and find a man that she could love, another Dean.

Tristan quickly shut his eyes at the memories that name brought. He was there the first time they had met at the coffee shop, the ghost had attempted to hurt him, and forced him to leave. He was there the night of there first date, here in the park. He had interrupted what would have been their first kiss and had used his resentful power to make Tristan physically hurt.

But he wasn't there last night or this morning. The vengeful ghost wasn't present during their incredible date or the horrible events that followed afterwards and Tristan realized why. 

Dean had known what would happen. He must have known that his memories would have flown between them, that they would have passed from the darkest recesses of his mind to hers. Tristan hated thinking about Dean's spirit and he dreaded seeing him again. 

Because he knew, in the pit of his stomach, that Dean wanted to kill him. He wanted to get even, wanted to see Tristan take his last breath and wanted to be the cause of it. 

Tristan knew now, he had made the connection here in the park, right after that overwhelming stab of pain flashed through his mind. It all made sense: Dean's possessiveness when it came to Rory being around Tristan, his extreme animosity, his sudden and brutal attacks. 

Tristan sighed painfully as his mind traveled back, unbidden, to that night… 

__

He had to get away, he had to run as fast as he could. It was after him, Tristan could hear it's demonic laughter as he raced through the forest, jumping over tree roots and ducking under low-hanging branches. 

Tristan had only been trying to help, he had been prepared to fulfill whatever task this troubled soul gave him in order to aid him in passing over, but he had missed something. This ghost was evil to the core, it wanted nothing more than to hurt people, than to hurt him. But Tristan had realized that too late. 

The phantom could easily have caught up to Tristan, even though he was scrambling as fast as he could. But it was enjoying the chase. 

Tristan continued, legs pumping furiously, lungs burning. He could feel his muscles ached and, although he tried and tried, he just couldn't seem to suck enough oxygen into his lungs. 

_He fell several times, his knees, hands, and elbows were bruised and scraped and his cheek bled. But he couldn't linger on the ground, couldn't curl up and rest like he wanted to, he had to get up, had to pull himself to his feet as quickly as he could. He had to keep moving to survive._

His breath squeezed out of him in a chilled white cloud, he was red and shaking from the cold, and was having trouble fleeing as the heavy snow fell around him. 

_He could see it now, up ahead. The sounds of traffic reached his ears and he was so thankful that the highway was up ahead. If he could just get there and cross that road, he would be safe. _

This particular ghost was the spirit of a malicious landlord from the eighteenth century. He would either be incredibly frightened or more amused by the bright lights and moving vehicles and hopefully he would forget about Tristan.

As he tore up the bank that led down to the asphalt, Tristan glanced over his shoulder. The evil spirit's feet didn't even touch the ground but he was just behind Tristan, a evil grin on his dead, cold face. 

Tristan couldn't stop, he would have to take his chances with the road or become subject to this spirit's barbaric beating. The ghost also realized Tristan predicament, and, amused by how it could turn out, lunged forward, hand out, ready to dig his fierce nails into his back. 

Tristan didn't know what to do. He definitely couldn't stay with the phantom but a highway seemed far too dangerous. Although thick snow surrounded him in a white, heavy blanket, Tristan couldn't see any headlights. And above the sound of his harsh breathing and his pounding heart, he couldn't hear any engines rumbling.

He had no choice. 

He flung himself out onto the slick road, tearing across the first two lanes and pausing one the median. He couldn't see the demon any longer but a car passed behind him through the lane he had just cross. This was his chance, two more lanes and he was home free. 

Taking a breath, Tristan flew. But he had miscalculated, he hadn't watched hard enough. Over the engine of the car that had passed behind him, he hadn't noticed that another one was approaching. 

Bright headlights fell on him and Tristan froze. His whole, miserable life flashed before his eyes as he accepted the fact that this is how he would leave this world, two months before his eighteenth birthday, the day before his grandfather's funeral. He decided, in that split second, that it was a fitting way to go; he would follow his grandfather, the only person he loved and the only person that would ever love him, out of this world.

His eyes began to close in fear and a loud screeching noise filled his ears. He couldn't feel any pain, but he wondered if that was the sound of the car body rushing over him and coming to a halt. Maybe the pain would come after.

But it didn't, there wasn't any. He understood that the sound was that of the tires protesting as the driver swerved suddenly to avoid hitting him. He turned his head just in time to see the car slip on black ice and crash, head on, into a tree. There was a loud noise; metal crunching, tires shrieking, and glass breaking. 

Tristan watched, horrified and guilt-ridden. Oh my god, _was his only thought as frozen tears rushed down his icy cheeks. He ran as fast as he could to the car and nearly fainted when he saw how it had wrapped itself around the tree._

He saw, through the snow-covered windshield, the driver, a young guy with dark hair hunched over and bleeding. Tristan pulled his sleeve over his frigid fingers and yanked the door open.

He saw the blood, could smell it, it made him feel sick. He heard words streaming senselessly from his mouth as he searched desperately for a cell phone. He had to call for help, had to save the guy who risked his own life to save his. But he came up empty handed. He closed the door, it must have been slightly warmer in the car and the wounded man would need as much warmth as he could get to survive until he got to the hospital. If he got to the hospital. Tristan's hands shook and he cried apologies and reassuring nonsense as he waited for help, someone must have seen. 

He heard a car screech to a halt and thanked God that someone had stopped to help. He had to get out of here; he had to run. He couldn't follow this man to the hospital and risk seeing him die. If that happened, he couldn't bear to face his family, to see their faces when they realized that he was responsible. 

He heard car doors open and, looking back to catch one last glimpse of the guy who had saved his life, Tristan rushed stealthily to the darkness of the forest. He hide behind a large tree about ten feet away from the accident, watching silently as one of the rescuers, a woman, pulled out her cell phone and called for an ambulance. Her voice was high and full of fear as her husband opened the door and tried to speak to the man, who remained unconscious.

Tristan watched, huddled in a light jacket in the dead of winter, for forty-five minutes as the paramedics came and retrieved the guy from the car. He refused to move and cried softly as he waited for the ambulance to drive away. 

He had heard the conversation between the paramedics. The guy wasn't going to make it. Tristan cried into his arms, muffling his sobs as the discussion continued. They kept calling him "kid" and Tristan realized that the person who had swerved to save him, the person who was dying this moment, was no older than he was. 

The ambulance drove away, the whining siren fading off into the night. Tristan remained behind the tree, thinking of the young life that he had just taken. He sat there for what seemed like hours as more tears came and went.

Finally, he picked himself up and blindly tried to find the way back to his car. His weary feat pressed on, carrying his exhausted, shivering body deeper and deeper into the night.

~~~~~~~~

__

There it is! I know there was no dialogue but I had to clear up the whole Tristan/Dean thing. 

Now do you understand why Dean hates Tristan so much? Why he's always been out to get him and keep him away from Rory? **laughs evilly**

Okay, so now we know (actually, I decided) that Tristan is clairvoyant, but think about that definition of telepathy. Read it again and see if it has any relation to Rory………

Review plz!

Love, Madz


	11. Anything

A/N: Alrighty guys! Thank you for the reviews! I'm so proud! Lol! Okay that web address that I tried to put up didn't work so I'll just say again that none of it was mine, it came from the _International Forum for Neovedantins _site (not that I know what that is!). 

Okay, to **Deeta: **I know that it may be a little too soon for Rory to realize that she loves Tristan and I was worrying about that. I was considering doing a little '_Several months later' _thing but it just seemed to screw up my ideas for the story. Plus there's also the fact that I'm **leaving for Italy in less than 10 days** and I want to get this story up and finished before then. And hey, Romeo and Juliet met, feel in love, got married, and died within a week! Lol!

And I know you may think of Tristan's actions as a bit wimpy when it came to the whole Dean thing but I tried to imagine what I would feel like if I were in his position. I couldn't bear to face his family and have them hate me for taking away their son. He tried looking for a cell phone and waited and made sure that someone came to help. Keep in mind that that happened just after his grandfather died, I mentioned that the funeral was the next day and that that was the last time he was ever seen in Hartford. Also bear in mind the crappy life he's had so far, you were right when you said he's very scared, numb, and hurt. You pegged him exactly. Dean's death convinced him to run away, it was the final issue that tipped the scale. 

And to **smile, **don't worry, I absolutely **love **long reviews like yours! They make my day! And yes, Dean was the one who was killed in the car – if you reread the part right before the flashback, you'll understand. 

And thanks to **Cinnamon Angel **for your super long review! I don't know when you're planning to post your story but if it's not up before I leave I would _love _to read it if you wouldn't mind e-mailing it to me! Your English is awesome – I couldn't even tell you're French! And thanks for understanding my Tristan so well! Merci beaucoup!

Here's the next chapter, I hope I'm not rushing things too much. It's just that I won't get back until September 7 and then I'll have school and work and music lessons, it'll be too much work to update often and I don't want to leave you guys hanging. I've still got at least four or five chapters left. Now, before my A/N becomes longer than this chapter…

_Enjoy!_

****

Chapter 11:

Anything

The sound of her heavy breathing filled her ears, the rhythmic beat of her footsteps pounding on the worn path rang out into the night. The evening air was cooler than it had been, cooler than usual for the last week of September but that only fueled Rory's determination. She knew how much Tristan hated the cold, how he regarded it as an unfortunate sign. The last tendrils of light veined through the dark sky were quickly fading, surrendering to the growing darkness, but her eyes looked straight ahead, never leaving their destination. She knew he would be here, she could feel it.

She had left Tristan's apartment with a terrible feeling gnawing at the bottom of her stomach and was desperate to find him. She knew that something horrible was about to happen, she didn't know how, she didn't know what, she just knew. 

She ran faster, her shifting feet carrying her apprehensive body further and further down the well-worn path. He had told her that he went to the pond to think sometimes, that was where he would be. 

Thoughts of getting to him had filled her head as Rory had raced up the stairs to her dorm room. She couldn't remember how to get to the park from Tristan's apartment but she was confident that she could find the entrance from Pandora's Box. As long as she could find the directions to Pandora's that Tristan had given her earlier that week. 

They were there, on the refrigerator, where she had left them. She snatched them off and, scanning them quickly, she shoved them into her pocket. 

Rory blew threw the small dorm, driven by her need to see him, to hold him, to tell herself that he was all right. Within seconds of entering the apartment she was at the door prepared to leave, but something caught her eye. On the end table in the corner of the room, a light was flashing on her answering machine. She had a message.

Hope blossomed in her chest as she rushed across the room. He had called. Regardless of what had happened before, Rory was thrilled by the thought of hearing his voice. A tiny bit of her endless guilt dissolved and she was praying that her apprehension of misfortune had been completely wrong. 

But what if she was right? What if the message wasn't from him? What if something terrible had already happened to him and the police or the hospital were notifying her? 

What if she was too late?

Leaning over, her shaking hand hit the button and she waited, both eager and dreading to hear the context of the message. 

_"Hey honey, it's Mom…" _Rory was disappointed but very relieved to hear Lorelai's voice. _"Well, I know you're probably out with your dream guy but I'm at dinner with your grandparents and…I happened to stumble upon some unexpected information." _Rory smiled sadly at the 'dream guy' comment but decided not to delve back into her feelings just yet. Instead she was focused on her mother's words and her tense, nervous tone. _"I'm not sure how to say this, sweetie, and I'd rather tell you face to face but, here goes…I think I know what Tristan is hiding from you." _Rory stopped breathing. Her family knew his secret? What was she going to do? _"It turns out that he was part of Hartford's social elite and your grandparents know his family. I heard that his life wasn't too great at home and… well, the poor kid's grandfather died and we were supposed to go to the funeral but it was held the day after…the day after Dean died. That was the last anyone ever saw of him, until you. He ran away Rory…I'm not sure what else to say but I had to tell you. I think you should wait for him to bring it up but, don't worry, you'll do the right thing." _Rory shut here eyes painfully at that. _"I've got to go, call me later, sweetie. I love you. Bye."_

Relief flooded her along with a thousand other emotions. They didn't know the whole story; Tristan was still safe. But she couldn't stop thinking about what her mother had said. _'You'll do the right thing.' _But she hadn't, her mother had so much faith in her when she shouldn't have any at all. Rory had done the wrong thing, she had insulted him and shattered his hope, she had run from him and told him to stay away from her, and now she expected him to forgive her for everything and pretend it never happened. 

She stood there, staring at the phone, absolutely still as a thousand thoughts whipped through her head. _'His life at home wasn't too great…poor kid's grandfather died…he ran away.' _She became focused on those last two words. _Ran away. _

Had his life been so terrible, so painful that he had fled? Had the incredible power of the spirit's that haunted him chased him away? Or had it been a different power, more simple, like his parent's indifference, negligence, and hatred?

Rory had felt more tears of guilt and sympathy surge to the surface. Her grief was incredible. How could a person survive for eighteen years in such a horrible, frigid world? How could a person survive through the terror of experiencing death over and over again and still manage to get up and keep going the next morning? 

And what was worse, how could she know how much that person was aching to be loved and shoot them down so viciously?

Again she was swarmed with an overwhelming need to find him. She tore out of the dorm and, starting from Pandora's, quickly made her way to the path where she was now. 

The green leaves hung high from the treetops, their edges just beginning to surrender to the golden hues that would soon spread and dominate the park. But still they clung to their branches, resisting the urge to yield to the powerful wind that blew through them. 

Just like those withering leaves, Rory refused to give up, refused to let go. She forged on, deeper and deeper into the forest, further down the path until she saw water up ahead. 

He was there, she could see him. He stood, motionless, gazing out at the water, giving her a chance to study him when his guard was down. His posture spoke of extreme exhaustion and hopelessness, but something in the stubborn set of his shoulders revealed a weak, but enduring determination to survive. His face was pale and drawn, his jaw was set firmly and his lips had slipped down into a heavy frown. A blue ball cap rested on his head, hiding the tousled, golden hair and concealing his weary, exhausted face. Her eyes studied him, taking in his sunken eyes, noticing how he looked lost in the large jacket he was wearing. 

From where she was standing, Rory could see Tristan gazing out at the calming waters, his blue, blue eyes focused but not really seeing anything. 

When she had first met him, she had thought that that was how Tristan was: watching but never really seeing, listening but never actually hearing, touching but never quite feeling. 

But now she realized that she was completely wrong. It was every body else, the rest of the world, who were certain that they knew everything, but always seemed to miss the point.

Tristan saw and heard so much more than everyone else. He was always in the back round, watching quietly, listening intently. The world was blissfully ignorant while he suffered, bearing his terrible cross, alone. 

He looked so forlorn, so desolate but he stood ramrod straight, as if preparing himself for a furious storm.

Or maybe the storm had already begun, maybe it was raging within him. 

"Tristan."

He turned, startled, and for the quickest moment Rory saw immense, overwhelming pain in his eyes. But as quickly as it came, it was gone. 

Tristan was certain that the person standing in front of him wasn't real. They couldn't be. A thousand feelings ran through him, crashing over him, disorienting and blurring everything. He couldn't speak; he didn't know what to say. Why was she here? What was he supposed to do? He had to keep his distance, he had to keep her safe.

The sound of her voice and that hopeful, worried expression on her face almost dissolved his resolve.

He could never deny her anything, could never turn away from her when she needed help. He would do anything for her. Anything.

"Tristan?"

Tristan blinked and came crashing back to reality. No, he couldn't let her get to him again, he couldn't lose control like that. As much as it hurt, he had to stop this here, now. 

Suddenly his face was blank, eyes hard and empty, his lips drawn in a tight, thin line. And Rory knew that it was hopeless, that it would be impossible to reach him, but she tried again.

"Tristan, I'm –" But he cut her off. He spun angrily and demanded, "What do you want from me?"

Rory stared blankly. What had happened to that sweet, gentle Tristan? Where was the man she loved?

It hurt to hear those words coming out of his own mouth, to throw that angry tone at her and watch her face fall. He blinked back his pathetic tears; he was wrong. It wasn't hurting her, she hated him, she was afraid of him. And it didn't matter how much he was hurting, he had to keep up the act, keep his distance. He had to bury his true self deep inside, he had to rebuild the walls that had been so viciously torn down. 

"Tristan, I just want –"

"Do you know what I want?" She was interrupted again, but she refused to let it get to her, refused to start fighting with him.

"What?" She asked in a small voice. 

"I want you to stay away from me."

Rory stood completely still, stunned by the words that had just came out of his mouth. This must be a bad dream, but somehow the roles had been reversed and she found that she didn't know what her next line should be. But now she understood the pain that she had caused him this morning, she knew what it felt like to be pushed away, to be rejected and cast out. 

Tristan had honestly meant what he said. She wasn't meant to be with him, nobody was, and by driving her away he was saving her from a world of pain, despair, and fear. It wasn't what he wanted, not even close, but it was the right thing to do, it would be better for both of them. 

"You don't mean that." Rory refused to believe that. His blank, unrelenting expression almost made her accept what he said as the truth but, once again, his beautiful eyes gave him away. They were dark and stormy yet there was an infinite measure of pain in their blue depths. That wasn't what he wanted, she was sure of it. 

"Yes, I do." It took a conscious effort to breathe after he had let those heavy words pass through his lips. Did she know that he was lying? He didn't know how much longer he could keep up this charade, it was killing him.

Rory let a small, hesitant smile capture her lips. "I can read you like an open book, Tristan." 

Tristan's feelings at the moment were one big paradox. That was all he had ever wanted: someone to know him, completely, and still love him for who he was. That was it, that was all he had been praying for. But at the same time, she was wrong. Maybe she did know him well enough that she could tell he was lying, but she certainly didn't know him. No one did, no one ever would. There were things about him that Tristan didn't want anyone to know, there was too much to put on the line. 

"Don't presume to know anything about me, Rory." He spoke angrily. 

But Rory could see past his anger, she could see through and underneath his façade. He was like delicate glass wrapped up in a hard, outer shell. This morning, she had cracked that glass, she had thrown a hefty rock of pain and insecurity at him and that delicate glass had fractured dangerously. But he refused to crumble. That glass was trembling, shaking, resisting the urge to give up and fall away. And he was praying that nobody noticed, that nobody would bother to examine him closely, because if they did they would see that he was on the brink of falling apart. 

"I know a lot more than you think." Rory noticed that her voice held a hint of anger but she couldn't help it, she was so frustrated. She had come here wanting to tell him that she didn't care about his secret, that he didn't have to be afraid to be with her. But here he was, shoving her away, trying to protect himself by hiding far within. "Tristan, I know that you're hurt and upset and you have every right to be." 

He just scowled at her, not because he hated her, but because she was right. He was aching, he was unhappy. 

"But I know something else. I know that you're afraid." Rory watched him closely, she watched his frown deepen and his brow furrow. "You're afraid to let me in, you're afraid to show me who you really are, you're afraid you'll get hurt again."

"No." Tristan muttered, shaking his head and turning back towards the water. "No." But even he thought he sounded like he was trying to convince himself that she was wrong. 

Moving fast, Rory walked down the bank towards him. He was still turned away so she stepped in front of him, forcing him to look her in the eye. "Yes, you know I'm right, Tristan, just admit it. You're scared you'll get hurt, you're scared that I'll run away again, but you shouldn't be. You don't have to be! If you would just open you're eyes and see –" He shook his head furiously as she spoke and her voice had risen considerably as she continued, but now he cut her off with an angry wave of his hand.

"No, you don't get it! I _do _see, I see more than you'll ever know, I've seen more than you've ever dreamed of! I'm not afraid of being hurt again! Do you know why? Because my whole life has been filled with nothing but pain and it's going to continue to be! I accept that, but now I have to keep other people from getting hurt. Being around me means living in fear and agony but if I can just keep everybody, even you, away I can save them from that! I know that, I finally understand that!" He was shouting at her, his lips forming loud, angry words until his breathing became uneven and erratic. But his eyes, his tortured blue eyes were full of tears, begging with her, pleading with her to understand. Rory barely flinched at his tone but her heart broke at the words he was saying and the tormented look on his face. He seemed to lose the energy that moved him to make the speech because his shoulders finally dropped and his voice grew softer. "And it's killing me, okay? It's killing me to know that I can't make anyone happy, that I can only cause pain and suffering."

Rory reached out to wrap her arms around his tired body but he took a step back. "You don't understand what it's like, Rory, and I hope you never do. I wouldn't ever wish that on you."

His head was down now, his face hidden completely by the ball cap, and Rory could hear nothing other than their breathing in the absolute silence that followed his touching, melancholy words.

Even in the midst of everything that had happened to him, Tristan could think only of protecting others, of making sure that those blissfully ignorant people stayed ignorant, of keeping her from getting hurt. He was utterly, completely selfless. 

Rory's eyes began to water as she struggled to show him that she wanted to be with him, regardless of the hazard he thought he was. She took a step back, trying to collect her thoughts and form the right words. 

Tristan surprised her by reaching out a hand and tugging gently on her sleeve, pulling her closer to him. She waited to see if he would try to pull her into his arms but he made no move to embrace her. She stared at him questioningly until he reluctantly met her gaze.

"Don't stand too close to the water, okay?" He asked softly, his hauntingly beautiful eyes squinting as he stared over her shoulder, too embarrassed to maintain eye contact.

He was watching out for her even though they were arguing, he was trying to protect her from the thing that scared him the most. 

Rory took his hand and, although he was hesitant, pulled him up the bank, away from the ambiguous water. After a few moments she came to a halt and he stopped just behind her. She turned toward him and took his other hand, holding them with a tight, gentle grip.

"Tristan, I have something to say and I'm asking you to wait until I'm done to comment. Promise me you'll just listen, okay?" He watched her with alert, gentle eyes and nodded his head slowly, ready to give her anything she wanted. "Ever since we met that day in the coffee shop you've been one enticing, complex mystery that I've been dying to figure out. You're so sweet and charming, but at the same time so secretive and reserved. I loved being around you, I loved thinking about you and wondering what it was that made you so restrained. And then this morning, I found out and I have to admit that, yes, at first I was afraid." Tristan lowered his head in shame when she said that, but Rory put her hand under his chin and gently lifted his head, forcing him to look her in the eye. "I was afraid of the things I saw when…when we kissed but I need you to understand that I never was, and never will be, afraid of you."

Tristan attempted to speak, to ask her if she was speaking the truth but Rory tenderly lay her fingers on his lips, silencing him for the moment. She couldn't stop now, she couldn't be deterred. She had to tell him exactly what she felt, she wanted to tell him that he had become her everything. 

"Tristan, I want to- no, I need to tell you…" Her eyes shone brightly and a smile lit up her face. This was it, she was going to tell him how she truly felt, how much she cared for him.

Tristan was lost in her eyes. Even in the dim light, he could see the lightest, purest shade of blue gazing up at him with such innocence and tenderness. Those eyes could knock him off his feet and whisk him up to heaven all in an instant and he completely forgot about his earlier resolution to keep his distance. He lived for those eyes, for that smile, and at that moment he wouldn't have noticed if all the stars collided and rained down from the sky. 

"I'm so sorry that I hurt you, Tristan. I'd do anything to make you smile again. And I want you to know," Rory felt his hands give hers a reassuring squeeze and was so happy that she thought she would burst. "that I honestly lo-"

Suddenly, there was something strong and tight wrapped around her throat and she couldn't manage to tell Tristan what she needed to say. The words were lost and, all at once, it was hard to breathe. It was than that she noticed the arm wrapped around her neck clad in a shirt that she had bought as a gift for someone almost a year ago. It was then that she noticed the familiar cologne drifting up to her nose. 

__

Dean. 

~~~~~~~~

There's the 11th installment. I know it's kind of short but the next three chapters will be vital, climatic, and adventure-filled. 

Please review!

Madz. 


	12. The Ghost and the Darkness

A/N: Wow! Thank you guys soooo much for the reviews! Here's the 12th chapter and, yes, I did steal the name from that Val Kilmer movie!

Special thanks to **smile **– don't worry! I totally _love _your reviews!

And to **Deeta **I know you didn't mean to offend me and I'm sorry if sounded offended!

And to **Cinnamon Angel **that's too bad! L You've gotta get your fic up ASAP! 

Ok here it is, guys! I'm leaving on Thursday but I've still got 2 chapters and an epilogue to write! Eek! 

Enjoy!

****

Chapter 12:

The Ghost and the Darkness

The moment was ruined. That bright smile was torn from her face and her beautiful eyes were no longer beaming with happiness but where wide and dark with fear. Her hands retreated from his gentle grip and flew to her neck, struggling desperately to remove the arm that was wrapped tightly around her throat, cutting off her air supply, sending her into a frenzied panic. 

For a moment, Tristan could only watch in shock, wondering why the fates were playing with them so cruelly. Once second, their hope for a future together was brilliant and promising, the sun seemed a bit brighter, the world a more heavenly place. Then the next, they were forced apart, separated in the most heartless way. 

Tristan was ripped from his reverie by a horrible choking sound. He saw Rory, standing before him, held captive by a tangible arm; he saw the ghost behind her, holding her to him, smiling madly.

_Dean. _Tristan couldn't believe he hadn't noticed, hadn't see him coming. 

But then he realized that he wasn't meant to. Dean had crept up behind Rory, invisible in every way, and, when the moment was right, allowed himself to be seen by not only Tristan, but Rory as well. He was getting stronger, Tristan could tell. Rory's fingers were actually pulling on the material of his shirt; Dean was no longer a transparent image, but something substantial, something physical, something real.

But none of that mattered to Tristan, he didn't care how powerful Dean was, he didn't care what he would do to him, but he wasn't going to let him harm Rory.

All of his speculation took only seconds, and before he could think, Tristan was lunging, hurling himself at them with the hopes of tearing Rory from Dean's grasp. 

One moment he was watching Rory, focused completely on his goal. He saw her eyes center on him, he saw Dean remove his arm from Rory's neck and point his hand at him, but he kept going, rushing towards them with only thoughts of saving her in his mind.

The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, staring up at the dark sky, pain surging through every cell in his body. His head was spinning and his vision began to twist in a swirling mass of disorienting colours. A scream reached his ears, but it sounded so far away, it was so weak compared to the overwhelming pain that ravaged him. He shut his eyes against the agonizing ache but the pain continued to whip through him, burning him like a wild, raging fire. 

Hours seemed to wear on and he lay on the ground writhing in agony, but in seconds it was over and he was left on the soft grass, gasping for breath. 

Rory had watched as Tristan leapt for her; she had felt the restricting arm move from her neck, finally allowing air to pass to her starving lungs. But what happened next was much worse. That hand sent Tristan flying backwards, knocking him harshly to the ground, and she prayed that it would leave him alone. She didn't care if it returned to her neck and continued choking her, as long as Tristan was safe.

But he wasn't, it didn't. He curled on to his side and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, and Rory could see true anguish on his face. She screamed, ordering the creature that still held her to stop hurting him, but it's only response was to chuckle insanely in her ear. Dean was enjoying it, he was grinning as he watched Tristan thrash painfully.

Rory heard a strange noise drift to her ears and it took her a moment to realize that it was her own sobbing. The man she loved was suffering terribly and she was powerless to stop it, there was nothing she could do to ease his pain. 

Suddenly, it was over. Everything was quiet and still as Tristan slowly struggled to his feet, taking a moment to breathe, finally straightening up and taking a shaky step forward. His face was a whiter shade of pale, but his eyes were a determined, turbulent blue.

"I don't think so, _Tristan. _I wouldn't try that again if I were you." Dean's condescending voice was dripping with contempt and he smiled again as he drew Rory closer. "You don't know what you're up against."

"Let her go." Tristan ordered, his blue eyes hard and angry. Rory had never seen him so enraged. 

Dean chuckled merrily. "I don't think so. Last I checked, I don't take orders from you." Rory was unable to keep a sob from escaping. "You know, I've been here for quite a while now. Granted, you couldn't see me, but I'm surprised you didn't notice I was here. What kind of a mediator are you?"

Tristan looked away as that familiar feeling of failure swamped him again. Dean was right, his perception had failed him. Even though Dean didn't want to be seen, Tristan should have been able to feel him, to sense his presence, but he hadn't.

"And, it may have just been me, but I seem to remember hearing you think that you would do _anything _for Rory." Dean's sardonic, ridiculing tone faltered and anger and jealousy leaked through. "Is that true?"

Tristan couldn't understand Dean's game, but he had a terrible feeling about all of this. Tristan's heart sunk as he realized that Dean could indeed read their thoughts, but what he had revealed was true: Tristan would do absolutely anything for Rory. He nodded.

Dean threw back his head and laughed, his corrupt chortle echoing surreally around the pond. "Perfect. Surely you know what a chakra is, Tristan? As well as what a person could do if they knew how to use it?"

Rory had never heard the word before but, upon seeing Tristan's face blanch, she felt incredible misfortune approaching. 

Tristan felt his stomach drop to the ground when he heard Dean's scornful question. A chakra was one of seven centres of spiritual power in the human body. If a person knew how, by making physical contact they could manipulate a person's energy. It was a drastic action to resort to; if the person whose energy you had accessed knew how chakras work, they could reach along the connection and access yours. Witches, if they existed, were believed to use chakras, usually to heal. But if you had the power, you could stretch across that line and pull on the power that you found there and cause harm. 

Tristan glared angrily at the monster before him. His hands were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white and, although he didn't speak a word, Dean understood that he knew. 

Rory watched the exchange, utterly confused and afraid. A c_hakra?_

Perplexity flitted quickly through her mind as Dean leaned closer, bringing his mouth close to her ear. "He understands that I can control your power, he understands that I can play with your energy," The way the phantom spoke the word _play _sent a thousand terrible shivers up her spine. Rory could just imagine the look on his face, the same look he had while he enjoyed watching Tristan suffer. 

She struggled to stop her tears, to keep her breathing regular as he spoke again. "He understands that with just a simple thought, I can kill you."

Rory's sobs rushed forth again. How could Dean want to hurt her? Hurt anybody? How could she have ever loved this terrible, bloodthirsty creature?

"You wouldn't." Tristan stated confidently, praying that he was right. He saw Dean place his hand gently over Rory's throat and once again he was charging at them.

"Try me."  


Once more, Tristan was sent flying backwards as if he had been savagely hit with a sledge hammer. But the blow was harder, more devastating and he was sent tumbling down the grass, closer to the water. The world spun and shifted before his tired eyes and, even though he knew he was lying down, he felt as though he was spinning every which way. Upside down and around so fast that he thought he would be sick and he gripped handfuls of the fine grass, hoping that it would hold him down, keep him grounded. That terrible, fiery pain burned through him, scorching his insides until he bit his lip in an effort to keep from screaming. It was like being dipped in a mass of molten lava and in the midst of the seething pain, he wondered why he couldn't smell his own flesh burning. 

And just like that it was over; as if cool water had washed over him, extinguishing the fire, smothering those fingers of flame that scratched at him relentlessly. He lingered a bit longer on the ground this time, his body exhausted, his energy completely depleted.

Rory couldn't stand to watch, couldn't stand to see the unimaginable torture that Tristan was enduring. She watched him rise and noticed that it took him a little longer to become accustomed to the absence of pain. She also caught his bleeding lip and shaking hands and again she wept for hopelessness. 

Dean took even more pleasure from this more severe episode and Rory shuddered in his grip. He spoke again and she could hear the disgusting satisfaction in his voice.

"So, back to my previous comment, Tristan. _Anything? _Hmm, you know, I really like the possibilities." Rory could feel his grin against her cheek and an involuntary whimper escaped.

"I said, _let her go!_" Tristan growled, taking slow, careful steps up the bank. 

"Actually, right now I like her right were she is." Her crying recommenced as he spoke those words. Dean returned his hand to her throat, making her skin crawl, and her mouth moved in silent protest. "Now, I'm about ready to have some fun. What do you think, Rory?" He allowed her enough room to turn slightly, so that she could just make out his profile in the darkening night. She sobbed again and turned to look at Tristan; he gave her the most devoted, tender gaze and she felt her breathing steady slightly.

"You won't hurt Rory. You love her too much." Tristan hated to think that this creature was ever capable of loving anything, but he said what he had to say, praying that it would strike a cord in Dean's memory. 

But it didn't. The ghost's expression changed in to a revolting snarl that was meant to be a smile. A mixture of emotions spread across his face: jealousy, anger, hatred, bitterness. "No, you see that's where you're wrong. I did love her and just like you I was willing to do anything for her, including driving across ice-covered roads in a blizzard. But I was a fool. We all know where that got me." Dean gave Tristan a sly, perspicuous look and Tristan glanced away, painfully understanding what Dean was referring to. His other secret, the one he had yet to tell Rory. 

"Everything went black but when I woke up the next day nobody seemed to notice me," The ghost continued. "She was upset for a while and knowing that somebody misses you makes being dead easier. It takes some time getting used to but I finally figured out how to control my abilities, my energy. You have no idea how powerful I feel; it's incredible." Rory could hear the pleasure in his voice and resisted the urge to struggle out of his embrace. "Walking through walls, superhuman strength, only being seen when I want to be seen."

Dean leaned in close and breathed delicately on her ear in a terrible manner that unnerved her and made her want to recoil. His voice became a light, breathy whisper but he spoke loud enough for Tristan to hear. "All those times in your apartment when you felt colder, all those times you felt the little hairs on you arms stand on end, all those times you felt eyes on the back of your neck," Dean grinned again before continuing, a deranged, grotesque grin that scared her beyond belief. "That was me."

Rory sobbed even harder, thinking back to all those times when she was getting in the shower or changing for bed. An incredible sense of violation flooded her and, if it wasn't for Dean's tight grip, she would have collapsed to the ground.

Dean was looking at her, watching her cry and actually smiling, but then, out of nowhere, without even turning his head, he spoke to Tristan. "Don't even think about it Tristan."

If Tristan was moving, he would have froze at that order. He hadn't even begun to lift his feet; he hadn't even taken a deep breath to prepare him for the sudden movement. He had only thought about lunging at them again, giving it another shot, but Dean had known. He knew every move Tristan wanted to make before he did it. 

A haunting realization hit Tristan: he was in way over his head, Dean was out of his league, he was fighting against the odds. But that didn't mean he was giving up.

"Everything was _perfect_," the ghost spoke again, uttering every word slowly. Tristan flinched when he heard Rory sob once more, but he didn't know what to do. "And then she betrayed me. With you."

Tristan only had time to notice how Dean's voice had dropped to a low, angry growl and how his black eyes had darkened to the deepest shade of ebony night when it happened again. Another burst of that sweltering heat exploded through him until every inch of him was burning, flaming with the fire of a thousand suns. This time, that brutal mallet sent him hurtling towards the bridge so fast that the handrail smashed into his lower back, making him cry out in pain. He fell to the ground, only inches away from the water, as terrible convulsions ripped through his body. That ever-present fire throbbed through him, a powerful inferno that seemed to sear his flesh. 

It receded slowly this time, inch by inch of his scalding skin tediously cooling down while hot tears fell unbidden down his cheeks. He found that this time, he didn't have the strength to get up and make his way back up the bank. He sat quietly for a minute, sucking air into his lungs, touching the grass, and reminding himself that he wasn't hurt. That terrifying fire was an illusion, a deluded mirage, it wasn't real. 

He had just finished making his weary way back up the bank when Dean spoke again, his voice a mocking, condescending rumble. "Your deathly afraid of water, right? Why don't you take a little walk, Tristan?" Dean motioned toward the bridge and Tristan followed his line of vision.

Tristan felt sick as he stared out at the thin boards, the only thing that would keep him from being swallowed by that horrible water. Dean knew of his overwhelming, crushing fear and he wanted him to walk out over the bridge's thin planks. 

Rory watched at Tristan's face became completely ashen, completely colourless. She could only imagine the horrendous fear that was surging through him at this moment. She had witnessed Dean's terrible third attack and was shocked to she him stand up after it had ceased. She remember his cry of pain as he was viciously slammed back into the railing of the bridge and had seen his body tremble and quiver as he lay twisted on the ground. 

He had endured through the most terrible attacks, he had prevailed through incredible pain, he had taken everything Dean had thrown at him without one plead for mercy or one cry of complaint. But now, Dean was demanding more. 

Rory watched as Tristan shook his head almost imperceptibly. No, the water was his biggest demon, the worst of all the terrible creatures he had seen. He couldn't go out there. 

"No? Okay." Dean spoke and placed his hand back on Rory's throat. In an instant a horrifying pain burst through her, so powerful that she thought she would break. Tears flowed down her cheeks and she couldn't bite back the scream that erupted from deep within her. 

Tristan heard her scream; that heartbreaking sound almost brought him to his knees. He understood Dean's game. Dean knew that he wouldn't stand for Rory being hurt, that he would do anything to keep her from any pain. Tristan had no choice; he would not let her suffer. 

Although, more than anything, he wanted to race over there and hurt Dean as much as he had hurt both of them, Tristan did what he had to do. He slowly turned and walked down the bank to the bridge, the sound of Rory's cries driving him onwards. 

He raised his foot and cautiously lowered it onto the wooden planks. Her terrible screaming stop and he breathed a sigh of relief. He had to keep going, had to make his way across the terrifyingly frail structure. 

Every step was agony, every step brought more horror, more panic. One by one, he took small steps, keeping his eyes on the wooden boards that suspended him above the dreadful creature underneath. He made it half way and found that his heart was in his throat; he couldn't do this, he wasn't strong enough.

Rory continued to sob helplessly as she watched Tristan carefully make his way across the bridge. The pain had desisted as soon as Tristan took his first step onto the bridge; part of her was thankful, but a bigger part of her was wishing that he would run back to where she was, whatever the consequences. 

"That's a good boy. Now, I think that you should step up on the rail." With his hand still on her throat, Dean turned to her and asked in the most sickening voice, "What do you think, Rory?" She started to shake her head and opened her mouth to protest but again that anguish tore through her, devastating her hope, and, though it sounded far, far away, she heard herself screaming. 

Tristan shut his eyes against the image but couldn't stop the sound from reaching his ears. He felt a sob rush through him and barely managed to contain it. Why didn't any one hear her cries? Why hadn't anyone called for help?

It was then that he realized that he was the only one who could help her. He had to do as Dean said, he had to follow his orders. 

Cautiously, he climbed up onto the rail, taking a moment to steady himself. Hours seemed to stretch on as he balanced precariously on the thin rail and he refused to look down, refused to think about the black, black water that was waiting to swallow him. It took an extraordinary effort to breathe and his hands began to tremble and shake. 

He turned his head slightly so that he could look clearly at Rory. She beheld him, poised and steady on the railing, risking his life for her. 

"Any last words?" Dean asked, a sardonic smile twisting his face into the most hideous mask. 

Tristan nodded slowly, never tearing his eyes from Rory's face. "Rory, you know what makes me different." He started and she nodded sadly, refusing to believe that this is how they would be forced to part. For Tristan, there were so many things he needed to say to her, so many things in the short, precious time they had left. "When they touch me, I see how they died; I feel all the fear and the pain. The only difference is that I couldn't just give up and die. I had to get up each time, I had to keep moving. I couldn't even stop to think about it because I'd be completely overwhelmed with hopelessness. But you, you became my hope." Rory smiled through her tears, gazing at him with all the love she possessed. And under that smile, Tristan felt a tiny bit of joy, he realized that it didn't matter that he would be sent into that watery underworld, as long as he would remember that smile. "I've died a thousand deaths, Rory, and I would die a thousand more if you could just forgive me for everything I've done." She nodded slowly, her smile never faltering, and he understood that she did forgive him. But there was one more thing he had to tell her. "Rory, I lo-"

Suddenly, there was another blast, only this time there was no pain. Tristan's breath was knocked out of him and his words were lost as he was sent tumbling off the rail.

Rory screamed as she saw Dean's outstretched hand and watched as Tristan was forced from the railing and plunged into the water. 

Tristan heard her scream but the sound was cut of as he broke through the surface of the water. For a moment everything was quiet and tranquil but he felt the frigid, terrible water brush against him, caressing him. All at once he was thrashing madly, struggling to push his way back to the surface. But it was no use; terrible fear gripped his heart as the black, harrowing depths welcomed him back with open arms. 

~~~~~~~~

There it is! I hope you liked it! Review please!

Love Madz! 


	13. The Tempest

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A/N: Hey peeps! Yes, its official, I am back and (just possibly) better than ever! Thanks to all my regular reviews, I thought up a name for you: my **Reg-revs!!!!!!!!** Lol, isn't that lame?! Thanks to **choca **for the lovely threats, and, yes, **Cinnamon Angel, **I could practically _see _you standing there scolding me. Thanks to **smile1 **for understanding; sorry for disappointing you **Deeta **(lol!) but I hope this makes up for it; and to **Jayde/coffeechick87 **I _loved _your "ritual reviews", you crack me up, hun!!!!! Also, to **Julianne, LizDarcy, Slytherin Princess, **and all you other crazy cats!!!

This chapter was started way back in July and I just finished it now!!! (What does that tell you about my dedication?! Jks) I hope to have the next one up next weekend cuz, although I'll probably work on it during the week, I know for sure that I won't post till that glorious time when school is over (for a while).

Now there's quite a bit of POV switches so bear with me, I think it's kinda good! 

As always, keep up your fantastic work and review when your through! (he he, I made a funny!) Enjoy! 

****

Chapter 13: 

Tempest

The water was wrapped around him, a silent, heavy blanket that hindered all his movements and prevented any air from reaching his lungs. He twisted and turned, struggling to push his head out and into the air. His movements were awkward and slow but every couple of seconds his hand or foot broke the surface, only to fall back into the black waters. 

His eyes were open, squinting in the cold fresh water, fighting to make out the supporting columns of the bridge. But he couldn't see anything, his vision was blurred and fuzzy and panic seized his heart. There was nothing to hold onto, nothing that he could use to push his way back to the surface. 

Below him, the black, frigid depths stretched on forever. Or maybe that was the way to the surface, he couldn't tell. He spun around and twisted frantically and soon he couldn't keep track of what was up and what was down. 

There was one thing he knew for certain, he was going to die.

~~~~~~~

Rory was swamped with a thousand thoughts and a thousand emotions. She watched Tristan floundering in the water; she could see splashes of water as he struggled just below the surface. He didn't know how to swim and she knew that he would panic but there was nothing that she could do to save him.

Dean's arms were still wound tightly around her waist and she struggled in his embrace, fighting to get away. Now was her chance, the ghost was laughing maniacally and she slipped through his grasp, determined to get to the water, determined to save Tristan. Hope filled her as she ran farther and farther away from the terrible phantom, but just as she was about to reach the bridge Dean appeared in front of her. 

Before Rory knew what was happening, he had captured her wrist in a vicious grip and pulled her roughly against him. She screamed and kicked and squirmed, but it was no use. Dean was far stronger than her and she realized that he had let her escape, that he hadn't even been worried about her getting away. She continued to wrestle wildly but Dean held her wrists tightly and shook her violently until she stood still. 

"Aren't you happy now, Rory?" Dean's tone was no longer mocking and sardonic, but hard and angry. "You loved me, but you got me killed now the same goes for Tristan. I can't break the cycle, now can I?"

"I was crazy to have ever loved you." For a moment Dean almost looked sad, his eyes seemed to lighten to that familiar, comforting chestnut brown. But then, once again, they were as black as night, his face hardened and his lips twisted into an evil grin.

"Funny you should say that. Tristan was stupid to have ever loved you. Look at him now," Rory followed his gaze and her heart sank as she saw that the patch of black water where Tristan had fallen in, where he had been splashing frantically, was calm and still. "He stopped fighting for his pathetic life."

Rory smothered the urge to breakdown; she knew what she had to do. Dean would never let her leave to help Tristan, she had to find another way into that water. "You're a monster, Dean! You disgust me! I'd rather drowned with him now then spend another second with you." She looked him in the eye as she spoke those words, letting all her hatred and anger show in her face. 

A muscle in Dean's cheek twitched violently and his black, black eyes grew as hard as stone. Rory was trying to look brave and hateful, but inside she was praying, praying that he would be angry, that he would toss her into the water and leave. She had to get to Tristan fast, minutes had already passed since he had been thrown into the dark waters. Dean's grip on her wrists tightened until she felt that his skin was burning hers and Rory could see the absolute hatred and disgust in his eyes. 

"Is that so?" Dean asked, his voice deathly, alarmingly calm. "I could have given you everything, we could have been together forever, but I see now that you were nothing but a waste of time. You play up to someone and pretend they're your world and then you abandon them for the next guy who comes along." Dean's voice had risen in outrage and distaste but then he took a slow deep breath and stared her right in the eye. "If you want to rot in a watery hell with _him, _so be it. I hope you're happy." 

Rory was flooded with pain at his terrible words. They weren't true, she had loved him so much but he had died. She couldn't mourn him forever, she had finally realized that she had to move on. 

Suddenly, he was pulling her down the bridge and she realized that her plan had worked, he was going to send her into the water. She would have to swim hard and fast, Tristan's time was running out. In an instant they were there, in the center of the bridge where Tristan had stopped.

She waited anxiously for the order to climb the railing but it didn't come. Instead, Dean picked her up and dropped her into the water. She heard the loud sound of her body hitting the water and she could see nothing other than swirling bubbles for several seconds. Finally, her vision cleared and she squinted out into the depths as her heart pounded loudly in the complete silence that followed. For a moment there was nothing and then… 

She saw something sinking slowly down into the blackness and she could have sworn that it was white cloth. Then a realization hit her: under his heavy jacket, Tristan had been wearing a white shirt. 

She saw him; he was shuddering and struggling in the deep water, not ten feet from her. She wished that she could have spoken to him then, wished that she could calm his fears and tell him to take off the heavy jacket that was weighing him down. She wished she could tell him that she was doing everything she could to get to him. Resisting the urge to dive straight for him, she surged upwards, bent on filling her lungs with air before she fought her way over to him. 

Her head broke the surface but before she could even open her mouth for air a rough hand was pushing on her head, forcing her under the water. In the instant she was above water she had seen Dean leaning over the edge of the bridge, leaning _through _the railings with that same twisted smile on his face. In that split second, Rory had only stared in shock at the terrible creature before her, hadn't been able to move, to get away.

The hand held her under and she let the last of her breath go as she fought stubbornly with the relentless hand that kept her in the dark, cold water. She couldn't keep from panicking as she watched the tiny bubbles float away, taking away her life support, her air, her hope. 

~~~~~~

Tristan's lungs were on fire. His stomach shuddered and cramped, and terrible convulsions fell over him, racking him through and through. A terrible pressure pressed on ears, crushing his head and sitting on his chest until he thought his ribs would break.

It was horrible. Eternity stretched on in the few simple moments that he tumbled, trapped under the water's resolute surface. Tristan felt cold spirit hands graze the material of his pants, thanking God that the skin on his hands and faced were left untouched. They had come to claim him and their fingers on his skin would have sent him flying to someone else's death, rendering him too disoriented to witness his own. 

He could have wept for the weight of his despair and the cumbrous water that overpowered his body and muddled his head. 

In a last desperate attempt Tristan forced opened his eyes, squinting harshly in the foul darkness. This darkness, the darkness of finality, of abrupt end, of death was so much more frightening than that of the gentle absence of light, the sweet sanctuary that overcame him when he closed his eyes. 

His heart lurched as he saw movement. It was somewhere close, but his aching head couldn't judge the distance, it was something thrashing violently, but his terrified, fading vision could not make out what exactly. He reached blindly for the figure but his imploring fingers found no assistance. 

Tristan was on the verge of letting go, of giving up and letting his spirit slip through life's fingers and into the mysterious realm below. The fear was overwhelming, the pain excruciating, but some tiny part of his brain, some weak voice far away struggled to function rationally. 

The figure, the one who's own trouble seemed as great as his own. 

Suddenly, he saw beautiful, warm brown hair sliding softly through his fingers.

The image brought a small comfort to him, but his oxygen-deprived brain couldn't quite make a connection. 

A flash of blue eyes, beautiful bellflower eyes, shone up at him.

Instantly, it was clear to him.

_Rory._

He remembered then, with haunting distinctness, that there were only two other people there with him tonight. His confusion shattered and rained down around him and reality hit him in the face like a right hook. 

That was Rory struggling only a few feet away from him and he understood why. She knew how swim, his fuzzy brain was almost certain of that, but something was holding her down, forcing her head under… trying to kill her. 

Anger flooded Tristan's veins, followed by heartbreaking panic. _No, no. Not Rory, not Rory…_

The thought repeated itself like a mantra in his head and some last reserve of determination fueled him in his awkward movements as he kicked and thrusted, using everything he had to propel himself in that direction.

He would make it, he would. Or he would die trying. 

~~~~~~

Rory clawed frantically at the hands whose steely grip clutched her head and right shoulder. She could feel a fire erupt in her chest and it took every single inch of her resolve to keep from opening her mouth and screaming. No, she couldn't do that. Fear squeezed her heart as she imagined the cold liquid pouring down her mouth, streaming into her lungs, killing her. 

But beyond that terrible image, she couldn't think. She couldn't think about why Dean was doing this to her, couldn't think about what would happen to her mother if she couldn't get her head above the water, she couldn't think about how to get away from the phantom's hands. Everything was reflex, automatic. She struggled and writhed, all the while keeping her mouth locked shut. 

She couldn't give up, not now, too much depended on her. Tristan's life depended on her. But she couldn't get away, she couldn't rid her throat of the hands that held her under, hands that were colder than the frigid water that was slowly killing her. 

Rory let her arms and legs fall limp at her sides, too weary to fight anymore. For seconds that seemed like hours, everything seemed peaceful, calm, quiet. 

Then the rough hands moved, blindly grabbing her collar and pulling. Rory felt like she weighed a thousand pounds as her head was pulled up above the surface. 

Instinctively, her mouth flew open and, with a harsh gasp, she hungrily sucked air into her lungs, pausing only to brutally cough up water. 

"And here I am thinking you were a good swimmer." Dean chuckled, a dangerous glow lighting his angry eyes. It took Rory's hazy mind several seconds to get over her panic and register that she was out of immediate danger, for the moment. A quick moment passed before she noticed he had spoken and, slowly, her brain processed the words. 

A terrible scowled covered her face. "How could you?" She demanded in disgust.

For a second she thought he would give her another rancid joke but his eyes stared straight into hers, an smile empty of mirth contorted his lips, and the voice that answered her was menacing and hard. 

"Your boyfriends gone, Rory. He's given up, I can feel it." Rory's breath caught and her heart stilled. _No, no, not Tristan. _She tried to tell herself that it wasn't true but she felt the harsh sting of tears flood to her eyes. _Not Tristan. _

Rory, from her place in the water, leveled her gaze with Dean's and put as much strength as she could into her voice. "You're lying."

Dean just smiled brighter, mocking her despair, and shrugged his shoulders. "Have it your way, don't believe me." He pushed lightly on her shoulders, pushing her body down an inch and letting her float back up, showing her what he could and would do. "I think that what I did before, you know, pushing you under, was kind of mean of me. I don't want you to hate me or anything so I figured this time I'd say goodbye."

Rory's heart resumed beating, this time at a frantic, rapid rate. _No, not again._

"When you're on your last breath," Dean whispered with a devilish smile, "think of me, Rory." 

Violent hands reclaimed the collar of her shirt as Rory's eyes widened in shock. In the harsh second that followed, she realized that Dean was going to put her under again, and this time he would show no mercy, she would not be pulled from the water. 

She was yanked up as Dean prepared to shove her under one last time. His devilish, smiling lips were so close he could have kissed her, but he just smirked and Rory could read his thoughts in his eyes. 

__

I win. 

Frantically, she opened her mouth, desperately trying to suck in a deep breath of air, but something happened. 

Something cold, soft, and gentle wrapped around her ankle, the weak grip stilling her racing heart. Rory could imagine creatures of the deep pulling her down, carrying her into death's embrace, and she found her mouth opening, preparing to scream.

But the sound died in her throat before she got the chance. A flash raced through her, like a bolt of energy, a shock. She was scared, put the feeling reminded Rory of something, of a rainy night and a warm bed and a burning kiss…

It happened again, as if an exhausted transmitter was desperately trying to send a signal across and ocean. She was that ocean.

Dean's eyes bulged and Rory distantly heard a strangled sound but that was the last thing she remembered before the light surrounded her. 

~~~~~~

_*** It was beyond freezing cold. His frigid fingers fumbled with the heater on the old truck, struggling to get some feeling back in his nose as he rushed as carefully as he could down the snowy highway. He returned his gloved hand to the steering wheel, placing it next to his other bare one. _

It would be really nice if I could get my other glove. _He was late for dinner at Rory's grandparent's house and was beyond nervous. He had dressed as quickly as he could, grabbed his gloves, and flew to his car, carelessly throwing his vital winter gear on the seat beside him, not noticing as one of them slid to the ground._

His truck had been freshly outfitted with a new engine, thanks to him, but the heating system was ancient and on its last leg.

Dean's soft brown eyes flicked from the road to the floor of his car. Should he reach for it? 

He glanced outside again. The snow fell around him like a thick, heavy blanket and his windshield wipers worked furiously to keep a white snowdrift from settling on the cool glass, sweeping back and forth, back and forth. He had said goodbye to his parents, rolling his eyes at their calls of "drive safely" and "be careful on the roads" as he hurried down the front steps. Dean had always been a good driver and he knew that on roads like this he should be creeping along at fifteen miles an hour, but he couldn't help putting a little more weight on his foot, anxious to get to Hartford without upsetting Rory. 

Upsetting Rory was the last thing in the world that he wanted to do. She was perfect in every way and he couldn't believe that he had snagged her. 

He thought of her pretty smile and her bright blue eyes; the image was enough to cast a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach but did nothing to warm his aching fingers. 

Oh well_, he thought. _I'll grab them really quickly. _Promising himself that_ _he would, Dean leaned over and fumbled in the dark until his hand wrapped around soft, warm material. Smiling in success, Dean straightened up, glanced out the windshield, and froze._

He saw the figure, the guy standing huddled out in the center of the road, and his paralysis fled as his instincts took over.

Jesus Christ! _He swerved, viciously tearing the wheel to the right, all the while keeping an eye on the stunned, petrified person. He tried desperately to straighten out the car, but it surged farther to the right, as if out of its own will. _

Black ice. 

Dean barely saw the massive tree, like a wall in front of him; he was too busy watching his life flash before his eyes. The trunk loomed up in front of him, coming closer and closer, and as his foot slammed on the breaks he understood that there was nothing he could do about it. 

For a second he was jerked forward with an incredible force, his seat belt tightened around him, digging into his chest. For a second his world was loud sounds, bright lights, and incredible, heart-wrenching pain. 

And then, nothing.***

~~~~~~

Rory was dropped back into the cold water, only this time there was no harsh hands holding her down. A distant scream, full of anger, fear and pain, reached her ears and she kicked out with her legs, thrusting herself up and out of the water. She was alone, the spot Dean had vacated was empty and nothing remained other than a chilly feeling in the air. She didn't think about what had happened to his spirit as she grabbed hold of the railing and held herself up, gasping frantically for breath.

Sobs overtook her body as Rory realized what she had just witnessed. Her shaking fingers clutched the low bridge with all their strength as the images from Dean's death faded slowly from her mind. 

~~~~~~

This was it, Tristan could feel it. He had always wondered what it would be like. He had seen death so many times, its haunting visage was a familiar face to him, but he had always wondered what his own would be like, how it would claim him. 

But it was so simple. A blackness leaked into the edges of his vision, a blackness deeper and more threatening than one that surrounded him. Tristan was no longer aware of the cold water that enveloped him, pulling him farther and farther down into the depths. 

He had saved her, he was certain. She would live, he would die, and he was fine with that because he loved her, cherished her more than he did his own life. 

He saw her waking up on a beautiful morning months from now, lying warm in her bed, and smiling happily for her love of life. He could see the image as clear as a picture, and the last bit of panic and fear slowly eased away.

His exhausted body gave up, and he felt himself slipping away, fading ever so gently, and he knew there was only one thing he would ever miss.

__

Goodbye Rory.

~~~~~~

Rory squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying not to think of all the pain and fear Dean had suffered in his last few moments alive. 

The image was so vivid, so real, just like the first time when Tristan – 

_Tristan! _

Thoughts raced through Rory's head. _Tristan. _The first time, the kiss, and the images that followed. _Tristan. _How he had been able to pass his memories on to her. _Tristan. _But it had only happened when they touched, he must have been here.

Rory's eyes widened in fear and shock as she recalled, right before the images appeared, something grabbing her ankle. 

It hadn't been a creature of the deep, in fact, quite the opposite. Images of soft, golden, wild hair, beautiful, intense blue eyes, a gentle smile, and a sweet blush floated to the surface of her memory. 

It took only a moment to realize that it was his caring, gentle hand that had wrapped around her ankle, only a second to understand that he had saved her, and even less than that to register that it was gone.

~~~~~~

To Be Continued……………………!!!!!!!!!

Ya know, it's been so long since I've updated that I almost forgot how much fun it is to leave you guys hangin like this! Hahahahaa!!!!

I remember reading a review before I left where the person said that she hopes Tristan comes back as a nice ghost but I'll be nice this time and promise you that he's NOT dead!!!!!!!!! 

And don't you worry, I've always got something up my parka sleeve! Lol!

Don't ya just looooove having me back? ;)

Love your cliff-hanger-lovin wallflower, 

Madz 


	14. Fallen Angel

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A/N: Okay here it is! I know I'm a little late but technically it's still the weekend cuz up in Canada here its thanksgiving! I hope you enjoy it! And THANKS FOR ALL THE REVIEWS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Chapter 14: 

Fallen Angel

_Oh my god! _The thought hit Rory hard and fast. _He was here, he was here and I let him fall. _A terrible feeling like her heart being wretched out of her chest invaded Rory as she struggled to keep from crying. If she started crying, she would end up sobbing, and if that happened, she would never calm herself, she would never be able to take a deep breath and save him.

Suddenly, she was panicking. She would have to move, and fast. Thoughts of soft, pale skin and a caring, weak hand sent her into a flurry of movements. Rory took a deep breath and pushed any thoughts of Dean from her mind. She dove beneath the surface and, within an instant, the landscape drastically transformed. The calm, quiet, cool October evening shifted into a dark, turbulent underworld. 

Everything was still, everything was silent. An eerie chill ran up her spine and Rory could feel the heavy weight of the water bearing down on her. 

Time stilled for a moment as she forced her eyes opened and squinted into the depths, desperately searching for any sign of Tristan. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears and she could feel time slip by as she wasted precious seconds. 

Pale beams of moonlight permeated the fathomless darkness, casting faint shadows all around her. 

And then, out of the darkness, she saw something. Soft moonshine caught something below her and a flash of light came to her. No, not light. _Silver._

Rory's lungs began to burn, but she was too busy making connections to care. 

__

A silver ring. Suddenly, it hit her. _His grandfather's ring. _Tristan wore his grandfather's silver wedding band on his left hand. 

Rory's heart raced as relief and hope flooded her. _Oh, thank God, _was the only thought her brain could form as she continued her descent down into the murky depths. 

She kicked her legs and pulled with her arms, thrusting and pushing her way down as fast as she could. Tristan couldn't swim, Rory knew that, and she also realized that fifteen minutes, at least, had passed since he had first been pushed into the water. Thoughts of the one she loved panicking and slowly drowning drove Rory onward. 

She could see him now, a vague figure descending slowly, his limp body drifting gently down. Rory reached for him and infinity ruled as her hand stretched towards him. Everything succumbed to a bitter slowness and she watched, distressed as the space between her arm and his hand gradually decreased. In truth, she was terrified that she was too late.

Her hand latched onto his arm and Rory immediately felt relief rush over her in waves. He would be fine, she would pull him to the bank and he would smile and kiss her and everything would go back to normal. 

Making sure that her grip was strong enough, Rory ignored the fact that he didn't respond, turned toward the surface, and began swimming. Her heart froze and fear gripped her. She realized that he was too heavy for her exhausted body to pull him to safety and she realized that she didn't have enough air to make it there, already her head was aching and her lungs burned. 

__

No. No, her fuzzy brain thought. _Keep going. _

She pulled Tristan and kicked up with all her strength.

__

Keep going. 

It was up to her to save them both.

__

Keep going…

But she knew she would never make it. 

Rory resisted the urge to sob when her next thought hit her. She _could _make it, she could, but only if she let Tristan go. Only if she let him fall away into the darkness, only if she let him die, but she wouldn't, not now, not ever. 

Disgusted that she had even considered it, Rory pressed on, determined to save him, even if it meant sacrificing herself. But already she could feel what was left of her energy fading, she could feel nothing other than the need to succumb to the darkness, to give up and fall away with Tristan. 

They would go to a different place, and maybe there they could be happy together…

Happy…

Rory could see nothing other than the darkness around her, the darkness above her, and the darkness below her, but suddenly she didn't care. She pulled Tristan's slack body to her and, still treading water, decided to close her eyes and rest.

_I'm sorry, Tristan. _

~~~~~~

_He was in a strange place. The light was bright and overpowering and, at the same time, soft and comforting. He couldn't tell where it came from, it seemed to emit forth from all around him, enveloping Tristan in a feeling of security and shelter that he had found in only one other place. _

Just like the light, the room he was in had no walls, no floors; it stretched on forever in an endless band of brilliance. Tristan wasn't even sure if he was standing or sitting or just floating, but he was there, he could feel it, and he was waiting. 

Waiting for what, he couldn't tell, but there was a gentle, expectant feeling all around him. He wasn't afraid, not in the least bit; he liked it here, in the light and the warmth. But he was uneasy, unsure of what to do or why he was brought here or where here even was. Tristan couldn't help but notice a nagging feeling pulling at his conscience. He liked it here, but he didn't belong. 

A voice came, suddenly, out of nowhere, and Tristan felt his worries being soothed away. 

"Why are you here, Tristan?" He knew that voice, he knew he did. It came from someplace long ago and far away, but he couldn't place it. It came from above and below and from all sides of him; it was gentle and sweet, kind and full of wisdom.

"I…I'm not sure…I don't…I don't really now where…here is." He could feel his uneasiness return, there was something he had left behind wherever he was before this, something special.

"Don't be afraid, Tristan. You're in a safe place." 

Tristan nodded wordlessly, although he wasn't sure if the person speaking could see him. He wasn't afraid of this place, but he was scared because he knew that he had left something important behind, something he had to go back to now. 

"I shouldn't be here." He stated quietly, certainly. 

"No." The voice replied calmly. "But I can help you return to where you came from." 

Relief flooded him. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't remember what had taken place before this, he couldn't remember anything at all. Panic overtook him, he wasn't sure who he was, what he looked like, what he had done to be brought here. Tristan. _That's who he was, that's all he knew and he held onto it like a drowning man clings to a life preserver. Something about that analogy awakened something, some memory in his brain but it was out of reach, just beyond his fingertips._

"I understand that you remember nothing, Tristan, but there is a reason for that. I told you that I can help you go back but I need you to make a decision, a choice. And everything depends on your answer." 

Tristan swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to remain calm. 

"You have been given a rare favor in your life, Tristan, but with it came an ever rarer misfortune. A gift and a curse. It is up to you to choose between the two." Tristan probed his brain, trying desperately to remember what the two were, but nothing was clear anymore. 

"It is not your time, Tristan. I can give you back your life, but you must choose. If you choose the gift, you also choose to keep the curse. It you choose to rid yourself of the curse, you must also forfeit the gift. Choose now, Tristan."

Tristan panicked. How was he supposed to choose if he couldn't remember what the gift and the curse were? He tried and tried but could recall nothing. Memory didn't exist here, only feeling and conscience. 

"You remember nothing because you are not supposed to. This decision is a vital one, but it can not be decided by any partiality that your memories may induce. It must be made solely by your clear judgment, by your integrity and your innocence."

Tristan didn't understand, not at all. He continued to think, to search through his brain, to waste precious time as his fear grew. 

"I can give you back your life, but you haven't much time. Your soul is here, safe between the worlds, but your body is not. I can reunite the two, but only if you decide before it is too late. If you do not choose now, all will be lost."

~~~~~~

Rory squeezed her eyes shut and reopened them, squinting in the dark water. _It can't be_, she thought, _it's not possible_. But there it was, there _she _was, a little girl. 

She was clad in a beautiful, white dress, her dark hair fell around her shoulders, and bright blue eyes burned into Rory's own matching azure irises. 

The first thought that Rory's aching head put together was that the girl was drowning, too. But that couldn't be either. Her hair _fell _around her, it wasn't floating, suspended in the water around her. Her dress also hung loosely off her tiny frame and never drifted or stirred. And, what's more, she was smiling. 

Her cherub face looked pale in the moonlight, but a small, worried smile graced her features and Rory felt a sense of comfort invade her. 

__

Go, a voice that didn't quite sound like her own sailed into her thoughts. _Save him._

Without thinking, Rory was moving. Using energy and strength that she hadn't had moments before, she kicked upwards. She never stopped to think that Tristan's weight was no longer a burden to her, or that the fire that raged in her lungs had ceased. 

Rory could see it now, just above her, the surface. She wrapped her arms around Tristan's waist and gave it one last kick, propelling them up and into the cool night air. 

For seconds, she could only tread water wearily, supporting both Tristan and herself as she gulped air into her starving lungs, the image of the girl fading from her mind. Tristan fell against her, his chin resting on her shoulder, his head leaning against hers. 

She pulled back slightly and, with one arm still around him, used her hand to pull his chin up. His eyes were closed and his peaceful face looked as pale as the moonlight that illuminated it. 

Rory had to get him to the bank and fast. She recommenced her kicking and swam with only one hand, keeping the other firmly secured on Tristan's jacket. She called on her last reserves of energy but found that she was incapable of moving any faster than a crawl. 

She stopped and turned back to Tristan. Pulling him close once more, she hastily pulled off his heavy jacket, ridding him of the heavy garment that was weighing him down. Once more, she forged on, keeping the shore in sight, thinking of nothing other than getting there. 

__

Ten feet. 

And she didn't give up kicking, pushing, and pulling for all she was worth. 

__

Five feet.

And again time slowed disquietingly. Each kick of her legs brought them closer and closer to safety.

__

Two feet…

But a little voice in her head, a feeling in the pit of her stomach, told her she was too late. 

Rory grabbed a handful of grass and pulled herself up and onto the ground, keeping one hand on Tristan's arm the whole time. She turned and frantically pulled, heaving him up out of the water. This was the hardest part, without the buoyancy of the water helping her, Rory found it impossible to pull Tristan's muscular, lean frame onto safety. Her efforts were everything but gentle, she didn't have time for that; he would be scratched and bruised but she didn't care as long as he was breathing. 

Her muscles ached but Rory finally succeeded in pulling him onto the grass and, though his feet were only inches away from the thing that threatened to steal his life away, lay him on his back. 

She fell to her knees beside him, her body shaking from cold, exhaustion, and overwhelming fear. Rory bent over, placing her ear above his face, waiting to feel his warm breath tickling her wet cheek. 

It was when that soft caress didn't come that her tears came, slowly raining down her cheeks as she reached hastily for him. Rory used one hand to pinch his nose and the other to hold his mouth open. She pressed her lips to his, breathing her air into him, praying with everything she had that it would work.

She pulled back and placed one hand over the other on his chest, forcing her palms down in strong pumping motions like she had learned in a safety course. Rory returned to his mouth and then, back, to his chest, ignoring her tears and the devastating thought of living without him. 

When her energy gave out and she couldn't push any longer, she gave up and brought her face back to his, waiting in fear, waiting in agony…for nothing. The tears that had poured forth grew in intensity to grating, brutal sobs that tore through her body and she didn't try to stop them. 

Rory leaned over him and gathered his limp body to her, holding and rocking him gently as her tears rained down on his face. Random memories of their short time together flitted sorrowfully through her mind. 

Meeting him that day in the coffee shop, noting how he had looked around self-consciously when she spoke to him, eventually giving her that hesitant, shy smile.

Tristan accepting a seat and roaring with laughter as Rory animatedly described Lorelai and then the adorable blush that followed when they both realized that the crowd was watching them. 

Laughing as he stammered and hesitated nervously before asking her out.

Their first date at Pandora's. Tristan pulling out her chair, his obliviousness to the waitress's flirtations, his deep, steady voice telling her the Greek legend, sharing his pain over his grandfather's death, and finally dancing with him, finding heaven in his arms. 

The park; witnessing his playfulness for the first time, learning of his failed dream and his fear of water, him chivalrously giving her his sweater, their almost-kiss. 

Calling him the next morning, Tristan promising to go to her if he ever needed help, desperately trying to correct himself after jokingly taking about a date with Lorelai, and happily accepting her offer for another date.

The night of their second date; Tristan feigning a British accent and getting smacked by an old lady, making her laugh like no one else could. His insistent determination to pay for her coffee, walking through the park together, placing a feather-soft kiss on the crown of her head. 

Rory sobbed harder as she remember lying, here, in his arms, feeling more warm, safe, and cherished than anywhere else. Running hand-in-hand through the rain to his apartment, where he gave her a change of close and lovingly wrapped his arms around her as she slept. Then, waking up next to him, her heart breaking as he whimpered in his sleep, tossing and turning restlessly. She remembered him waking up and trying to comfort him from the terrible dream he had suffered through. 

Their first kiss. She could still feel that incredible kiss, his soft, hesitant lips, his sweet taste, and the gentle hands that caressed her skin. 

And then, here, tonight, where he had faced Dean, met his biggest fear, and gave up his life to save hers. 

The intense pain that coursed through Rory was like nothing she had ever experienced before. She had failed, she had let him down and as punishment she would never again see him smile, would never kiss him or hold him, would never make him laugh, would never lie next to him and watch him as he slept. 

Rory felt empty as she let Tristan go, gently placing him back on the soft grass, feeling through the thin white material of his shirt that his warmth was fading fast. Her entire body trembled as she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, wishing him happiness and peace, and she pulled back to wrap her arms around herself, leaving a trail of tears on his pale skin. 

She continued to cry, to mourn her incredible loss, but she had the sudden urge to lift her head from its place, buried in her arms. She followed her instincts and looked up. 

The girl. She was sitting across from Rory, on the other side of Tristan, and she watched Rory with a smile. A secret smile. 

"Who…who are y-you?" Rory pushed out through her tears. The girl looked exactly as she had before in the water, but unlike Rory and Tristan, she was completely dry. Rory decided that her pain was so great that she was hallucinating. She didn't have time to waste wondering about the little girl, she could only think of Tristan.

But suddenly the girl giggled in delight, her blues eyes dancing as if it were Christmas morning. Rory stared, too shocked to speak, too shocked to cry. 

The girl in white reached out her little hand and clasped Rory's tightly, she could feel the small, warm hand fill her with hope. Rory continued to watch in disbelief as the girl used her other hand to pick up Tristan's, wrapping her tiny fingers around his great palm. The young girl laughed joyously as she united Rory and Tristan's hand, making sure Rory held tightly onto Tristan's.

Then she sat back on her heels and reached her hand up, placing it gently on Tristan's face. Rory didn't understand what was happening, but she wasn't afraid, for some reason, she wanted to reach out and hug the little girl.

Then she spoke. "Wake up now, Tristan." And her voice was like music, as soft as a breeze on a warm August evening, as sweet and as smooth as honey, and as joyous and as hopeful as her bright blue eyes. 

Rory watched the little girl, awestruck, until she heard a noise.

Her eyes flew to Tristan as he coughed and sputtered, spitting up water as he winced in pain. 

Rory cried out as he gasped for breath and in a second she was on him, lying half on the ground, wrapping her arms around him, laughing brightly as she covered his face in light, angel kisses. 

Tristan had heard an angelic voice speaking to him from far away and suddenly he was coughing, choking on water as he struggled to breath, feeling pain scourged through his body. 

Before he knew what was happening, he heard someone squeal in delight and huffed as a body catapulted its weight on to him. Heavenly laughter reached his ears as he felt soft, sweet kisses rain down on his face.

Rory. 

Without meaning to, he was smiling and weakly wrapping his arms around her. 

"Oh, Tristan!" She cried in between kisses. "Oh, thank God, Tristan! You're alright, you're okay! I was so worried, I was so afraid - don't you ever to that to me again!" He smiled ruefully at that. "God, I think my heart stopped for a moment there! I swam as fast as I could but I was afraid I was too late!" 

Her voice calmed and she looked him straight in the eye as her dark, wet hair fell around their faces. "Tristan, I've never been so scared in my life…I…"

"It's okay, Rory. Everything's going to be okay now. You saved me." His voice was soft and raspy but he smiled gently at her and she hugged him so tightly that it hurt.

"We saved each other." She whispered in his ear. She pulled back and gazed at him lovingly and, although he was wet, cold, exhausted, and in pain, Tristan had never felt better in his life. 

"Yeah," he murmured, "You're right." Rory smiled and kissed him again. She couldn't describe what she was feeling; she was so grateful, so overjoyed, so intoxicated by his presence. Just having him back was…heaven. 

Suddenly, a thought hit her and she was off again, making Tristan laugh softly as she babbled on and on. He didn't mind, though. To him, the sound of her voice was heaven. 

"But it wasn't just me. She was here, a little girl, she helped me. When we were in the water, I was trying to pull you up but you felt so heavy. But then I saw her, I saw her, Tristan, floating beside me in the water and suddenly you weren't so heavy anymore. And then I pulled you up here, but you weren't breathing… I thought you were…I thought I was too late! I was crying and the next thing I knew she was here. She took our hands and joined them then she spoke. She said, 'Wake up now, Tristan' and you did. Tristan, you did!" Rory couldn't stop the words that rushed out, matched only by the thankful tears that flowed down her cheeks. 

Tristan smiled and brushed the tears away, but Rory had more to say. Her voice softened and her blue eyes looked around, puzzled. 

"She's gone now, though. Tristan, I could've sworn she was right here." 

She never stopped searching. Had she made her up? Was she a figment of her imagination? Was she real? Did she run away?

Tristan wasn't afraid or shocked by Rory's statement. "What did she look like, Rory?"

Rory gazed at Tristan, wondering why he would ask that of all things. "She-she had long dark hair…and the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen. She had a white dress on and…and she was always smiling." 

"I've seen her too. Her name's Mary." Tristan tried to make his voice calm, tried to keep Rory from thinking that she was different in any way because she saw the spirit. "You saw a ghost, Rory."

Rory was quiet for a minute and Tristan feared that he would see terror in her eyes. Her eyebrows twitched thoughtfully and a small smile crept slowly across her face. "No, Tristan. I saw an angel."

__

An angel. Tristan was quiet for a long time and he didn't realize that he was crying until Rory kissed his tears. "Tristan I wanted to say thank you. Honestly, for everything."

Tristan shook his head and smiled. "I think I'm the one who owes you a thank you. Thank you for saving me just now, thank you for saving me from them, and thank you for saving me from myself, from being alone." 

Strong arms wrapped around him and for many moments they lay together, quietly. Rory lay her head on his chest just below his chin and softly kissed the skin at the base of his neck. Tristan pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and gathered his courage.

"Rory?"

"Hmm." She answered softly.

He gently pushed her off him until they were sitting side by side on the grass. He turned to her and took her face in his hands, caressing her soft, smooth skin. He felt tingles race through him, all the way down to his toes and he smiled.

"Rory, I'm not sure how many times I've tried to say this too you, but I am sure of _how long_ I've wanted to say this to you. I…I know I'm…different, that I don't exactly fit in. I've been alone for a long time, a long time," He emphasized gently. "And I know what I've always wanted, but…I could never find it…I was too…afraid to look for it. But I found it. I've finally found it… in you." He paused, trying to organize his thoughts. Rory smiled lovingly at him and he found the courage to continue. "You're the most incredible person I've ever met. You're sweet and intelligent, you're breathtakingly beautiful in every way. I guess that what I'm trying to say is that now that I've found you, I don't ever want to lose you. And…" Tristan raised his head and gazed shyly at her. "I love you, Rory."

Rory face broke into a smile and all the stars in the sky shone through her eyes. He was incredible; so kind, so gentle. His courage and integrity amazed her and his sweetness took her breath away. She took his hands and held them tightly. Rory stared straight into his eyes, evoking a shy blush to colour his cheeks as he waited apprehensively for her response, and meant every word she said. "I don't care about what makes you different, in fact, I'm thankful for it because it made you the man you are now. You're the most caring person I've ever known, but I want to know you more, I want to know all of you. And I want you to know all of me."

She could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the unspoken question from that little boy who wanted so badly, but was so afraid, to be loved. _Why?_

"Because I love you, too, Tristan." 

Those were the words he had been waiting to hear his whole life, and now that he had, he couldn't wait to hear them coming from Rory every day that followed. 

They smiled at each other. Nothing more needed to be said. 

He gently held her face, and kissed her.

~~~~~~~~~~~

There you are!!!!! I hope you liked it cuz there's more to come!!! Please review! 

I think that there will be another two chapters/epilogues then Lost Souls is done! 

I've got an idea for a second story (not a sequel) but I'm not sure if I'll get around to it! 

Love

Madz


	15. Quietly

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A/N: Wow!!!!! 197 Reviews!!!!!! WOO HOO!!!! Thanks so much to my **reg-revs **(lol!) and to everyone who reviews! If it weren't for you, my crazy thoughts would never have been posted on that amazing thing we call the Net! 

Now, not too much goes on in this chapter and I know it's kinda short but because of that I'm gonna give you guys a bonus! **Instead** of there being just **one more **chapter, now I'm gonna do **two more**!!!! (and the crowd goes wild! Jks!)

Anyways, I still don't own anything having to do with Gilmore Girls * tear *! Enjoy and please……

**Review when your through! **(lmao)

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Chapter 15: 

Quietly

Soft rays of sunlight filtered in from between the blinds, casting faint bands of light around the dim room. Discarded pieces of clothing remained scattered around the room, where they had been dropped earlier that morning by the two figures who lay entangled on the bed. There was no sound in the apartment; no people moving about in that early-morning routine, no coffee machine whirring to life, to television talk show hosts' voices permeating the air. The sweet silence, quiet and still, was broken only by the sound of gentle, even breathing.

And Rory was in the midst of it all, contentedly laying still, watching. 

He was beside her, on his stomach, his handsome, sleeping face turned towards her. His eyes were shut, his long lashes throwing shadows across his cheekbones, and his full lips parted slightly as he mumbled her name in his sleep and nestled a bit closer to her. 

A soft smile graced her face as she pulled quietly away from the slumbering figure searching for her warmth and comfort. She was intent on studying him, on admiring the incredible man who lay stretched out next to her in bed. 

Tristan. 

His golden hair had already become that endearing, perpetual disarray and, as her eyes beheld the tousled mess, her fingers itched to reach out and touch it. The mounds of blankets that covered the two had fallen back, during some point of his shifting, to reveal the tanned, soft skin on his shoulders. 

A frown crept, across Rory's face as she noticed the painful scratches and dark welts that marred the almost-perfection. Her mind flashed painfully back to the night before and she knew where they had come from. 

Rory moved closer to the sores and her heart fluttered with guilt as she placed a soft kiss on his shoulder. She pulled the blanket further down, exposing a taunt, muscular back that tapered down to a narrow waist. Staring up at her from the small of Tristan's back was a harsh bruise the size of her closed fist. Already the spot was swollen and had become a multitude of colors. She traced her fingers lightly around it, wishing she could make it disappear. 

Tristan whimpered and her eyes flew to his face in time to see him winced painfully in his sleep. Feeling instantly contrite, Rory covered the mark with the blankets and lay next to him, so close that she could feel his breath brush her face every time he exhaled. She reached up and gently stroked his cheek, feeling her heart race and her skin tingle just from that simple touch.

A faint blush spread across her cheeks as she thought back to last night, when Tristan had finally told her that he loved her and she had said the same words back to him. 

They had left the park immediately afterwards and walked all the way here. Rory didn't know what time it was when the pair stumbled into Tristan's apartment but she recalled his pale, pale skin and his trembling body leaning against hers as she led him to his bed. Thoughts of getting him somewhere safe, of getting him to someplace where he could rest and heal, flitted through her mind although she never once considered the hospital, full of bright lights, overpowering noise, and multitudes of people. 

Presently, Rory frowned at her negligence. Should she have called an ambulance? Should she have had him checked and x-rayed and gotten a professional opinion on his condition? But if she had, they would have badgered him for hours and Rory had seen the extreme exhaustion in his strained features. Hours of peaceful sleep and an absence of any worries was what Tristan needed, she had decided and she helped him peel off his wet clothing, leaving him clad only in a pair of boxers, and led him to the bed. Pushing thoughts of his handsome, muscular body from her head, she had lay him down, leaned over and pressed a gentle, comforting kiss to his forehead. After raiding his closet and covering him with six blankets, Rory had moved to the bathroom to prepare herself for the long night. 

She knew then that she would be awake most of the night, watching him rest, protecting him as he slept. 

Her reflection in the mirror was absolutely hideous. Her hair was tangled beyond repair, her clothes were soaked through and her eyes were bloodshot with fatigue, but a faint blush covered her cheeks at the thought of Tristan and she had never felt more alive. 

Rory had stripped down to her underwear and, finding her outfit from their second date draped over the shower rod where she had left it, pulled on the dry shirt and headed into the bedroom. Shutting off all the lights on her way, Rory slid into bed next to Tristan and let his soft breathing reassure her into peaceful sleep. 

She awoke a few hours later, the red numbers on the clock on the bedside table staring her in the face. _4:48._ She had checked on Tristan, placing her cheek against his forehead like her mother had countless time to check for a fever. His cool skin brought assurance and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer and resting her head under his chin. In his sleep, his arms enfolded her gently and a quiet, steady heartbeat thrummed in Rory's ears. Hours later, as sunlight streamed into the room, Rory had moved back to watch him in the soft light. 

Her thoughts danced from Dean, the …ghost who had tried to kill both Tristan and her, to the little angel, Mary, who had helped her save him, to her mother and what her reaction would be if and when Rory told her. She didn't linger on these thoughts for too long, for they gave rise to so many questions that Rory couldn't answer. 

If Mary and Dean and everything she had seen last night was not an illusion, did that mean that angels and ghost did exist? That they were all around her and Rory hadn't noticed before? What had happened to Dean? Rory had fallen under the water after the images of his death bombarded her mind and had heard a scream and then she had resurfaced to find him gone. 

Rory's mind wandered back to those images. _Was that really how he died?_ Tears stung at her eyes as she thought of the accident. Of the cold night, the thick snow, the slick roads, and the figure standing in the lane…

_The figure…blonde hair…_

Rory's eyes flew to Tristan as she struggled to hold back the sobs that threatened to tear her apart. He had been there the night Dean had died, in fact, he had been the reason that Dean's life came to that sudden end. That was why Dean had hated Tristan so much; that was why his twisted spirit could think of nothing other than revenge. 

That was one more secret that Tristan had kept from her.

Rory turned over, turning her back on Tristan as she sobbed into her pillow. She didn't know how she was supposed to feel. She had loved Dean with everything she was before he died; his death had been the most heartbreaking thing she had ever had to live through. But he was gone now, gone because Tristan had been there that night, had been the figure that Dean had swerved to avoid hitting, the one thing that had cause him to hit the black ice and slam into the oak tree, killing him before he ever reached the hospital.

But Dean was lost forever, and she could never have him back. And she had fallen again, more hesitantly this time, for the man who lay beside her now. He had kept two momentous, horrible secrets from her, and she realized that she knew nothing about who he was. 

But at the same time, she did. She knew everything that she had seen in those images from their first kiss. She knew about that little boy, trapped in a world where everything was fake, empty, and meaningless. She knew that little boy who had tried so hard to please his parents, to make them love him, who had been crushed every time he was met with a dismissive hand or a wounding, degrading insult. She knew the little boy with a secret, a secret that he had lived with for the last fourteen years, a secret that had destroyed his every hope for happiness. She knew the young man he was now, quiet, hesitant, and afraid. Afraid of the man he had become, of the life he would have to live, of the fear and repulsion he would be met with if anyone were to uncover his secret; afraid of the loneliness that followed him no matter how far he ran, no matter how much he left behind.

She knew the man who had risked his life, who had almost died this morning, to save her.

Rory turned back to him, weighted with guilt for ever thinking that he was anything other than an angel. She studied his face through her silent tears; he looked so different in his sleep, as if all his worries had drifted away. He looked so young, so sweet, so innocent. 

Without thinking, Rory pressed her lips against his, needing to feel his warmth, to savour his sweet taste, to reassure herself that he loved her. His soft lips were still at first, but he slowly responded as he stirred from his sleep.

Tristan felt sleep retreating as hungry lips fed on his. Instantly he knew who they belonged to and gently kissed back, trying to slowly calm the insistent, ravenous mouth. His fingers came up and lightly brushed her skin and it took a moment to realize that Rory's face was wet with tears and his eyes snapped open as he pulled back, immediately breaking the kiss. 

"Rory? Rory what's wrong?" He took her beautiful face in his hands and stared into her troubled eyes, feeling fear creep into his stomach. 

Rory could see the worry in his eyes and cursed herself inwardly for tormenting him. She murmured his name and hugged him tightly, too deep in her grief to hear his painful gasp as her arms squeezed his scratched, bruised back. 

Tristan squeezed his eyes shut at the pain and eased away from her grip, taking her hands in his. "Rory, what is it? Why…why won't you tell me?" 

The bewildered despair in his voice was evident and Rory forced herself to answer, to keep him from feeling anymore pain.

"T-Tristan, you know that I love you." It was more of a statement than an answer but Tristan found himself nodding his head as he stroked her hair. 

"I love you, too, Rory."

Rory let a small smile slip across her lips. "I know, Tristan, I do."

"Than what's wrong?" He questioned gently. 

Rory looked him in the eyes and let her pain shine through her eyes. "Tristan, I… I need you to tell me everything."

"Everything?" Rory heard his strength falter as a feeling of foreboding swept him. 

"Everything," She answered as she gripped his hands tightly in hers. "Evrything about what happened the night Dean died, everything that happened last night. Everything."

Tristan closed his eyes painfully as the realization hit him that Rory knew he was there the night Dean died. The subject was beyond painful for him and he knew it would be even worse for her. 

"Rory, I…" he pleaded hopefully.

"Tristan, please. I need to know what really happened." She begged him with her eyes and Tristan sighed painfully as his thoughts turned back to that night. 

He told her about his grandfather's death, the ghost he had been trying to help, the one whose only intention was to kill him. He told her how he had run through the forest on that cold April night; winter that year had come late and it had been unimaginably cold that evening. The snow was so thick that he had barely been able to see ten feet in front of him but he never stopped running, intent on evading the cruel spirit that hunted him. He told her about running out on the road and standing, shocked, as Dean's truck swerved and hit a tree; he told her about running over and checking on him and waiting in the shadows until someone came to help. He told her about hiding in the forest for hours, mourning over his grandfather's death and the life he had just taken. He told her everything she already knew. 

"So it was an accident," Rory whispered softly as Tristan tried shifting onto his aching back. 

"No," he answered right away. "It was my fault."

"Tristan, -" Rory began gently.

"No, Rory," he insisted, his stormy blue eyes trained on the cracks in the ceiling, too ashamed to meet her gaze. "I'm not cutting any corners here and I'm not going to lie to myself or you. I was my fault."

Rory sighed, knowing full well that he would never see it any other way. She lay her head on his muscled chest and placed her hand over his heart, giving him what comfort she could.

Tristan's eyes filled with tears that he refused to shed as he glanced down at her head pillowed on his chest and returned his gaze to the ceiling, blinking rapidly. 

"I was you wasn't it?" Rory asked suddenly, twisting to stare up at his tormented face. "Last night? You grabbed my ankle and sent those…images, like when we kissed."

Tristan nodded hesitantly, afraid of how she would handle their connection. "I…I wasn't sure if it would work. But I hoped that, that if I wanted to badly enough I could manipulate our connection and reach Dean…through you."

Rory nodded in understanding as a chill rushed up her spine. "But why those images? What did they do?" 

Tristan was quite for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "You heard Dean last night…when he said that he remembered driving and then everything went black. He couldn't remember how he had died. He knew it was on a road at night and he knew that I had something to do with it, but he couldn't actually remember swerving and hitting the tree, he couldn't remember the pain and the fear. His soul carried over _hatred _for me because in the deepest recesses of his mind he knew I was there that night." Tristan swallowed deeply, biding his time. "It's fatal for a ghost to remember how they died, to actually _see _it played out before their eyes, like a movie. I'm not sure why exactly, maybe it reminds them that they're not human anymore, that they actually don't have any claim left on this world." 

Whatever it is, I thought that it might work. I could see him trying to drown you from where I was so…so I did my best to swim to you and I hoped to God that I could save you."

Rory propped herself up on her elbow and stared at him for a long while. She could see the dark circles under his eyes and the ashen, wan blush that had begun to steal across his cheeks again. He _had_ saved her and she loved him with every inch of her being. 

Rory leaned over, stroking his cheek for a moment as she stared down into his hauntingly beautiful eyes. Slowly, she bent her head and kissed him. It was soft and gentle at first, but the caress soon intensified as they searched desperately for comfort in each other. Rory allowed him entrance and put every bit of her feeling into that kiss. 

Moments passed in this way until she broke the kiss, both of their chests heaving as they struggled for breath. Rory lay back down beside him and pulled her to him. He needed rest.

Tristan let her guide him down and he rested his head on her chest as her arms enfolded him in their loving embrace. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Tristan was overcome with a feeling of complete and utter security as Rory whispered her love to him, and let the foreign sense of refuge, protection, and solace soothe him into sleep. 

~~~~~~~

There ya go! I know, I know: a little two short, not enough action but I had to explain the whole Dean-bursting-into-smithereens-that-blew-away-on-the-wind thingy and stuff! 

Anyways, this week is gonna be really busy for me, which is why this chapter is sooo short! I've got two tests and piano and guitar lessons on Monday, a religion retreat on Tuesday(which means I'm gonna have a ton of work from my other three classes), literacy testing on Wednesday and Thursday, and an Essay and the Initial Proposal for my English ISU due Friday!!!!! UGH! DOESN'T THAT JUST SOUND UGLY?!?!?!

So the other chapters will finish everything up and maybe I'll tell you guys about my idea for my next story at the end of chapter 16!!!! 

Review and lemme know if you're curious!!!

All my love, 

Madz!


	16. The Sharp Hint of New Tears

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A/N: Thanks to all my reg-revs! You guys rock!!!!!! Here's the second last chapter!!!!!!

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Tear

Chapter 16:

The Sharp Hint of New Tears

"Come on, slowpoke!" Rory's playful cry pierced the icy December air and Tristan wasn't sure of whether or not he should hurry to the door or jump back behind the wheel of the car and return to the safety of New Haven.

It was a chilly, bright Friday, four days before Christmas Eve and Tristan, in a whirlwind of begging, packing, and a million "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" renditions, now found himself standing in the driveway of Rory's childhood home. 

"Alright, I'm coming!" He called, pulling the last couple of bags out of the trunk of Rory's brand new SUV, thanking God that his voice wasn't noticeably shaking. As he slowly made his way up to the front porch, Tristan found that his palms were sweating profusely and his stomach was alive with a thousand butterflies.

God, he was nervous. Beyond nervous, in fact. 

He was about to meet Rory's mom. 

Rory was practically jogging on the spot as she waited anxiously for her mother to open the door. Everything was perfect, Tristan was spending Christmas in Stars Hallow with her, her mother, who was dying of anticipation, would finally get to meet him, and Christmas cheer was everywhere. 

A grin took control of Rory's mouth and she glanced over at her boyfriend of three months as he readjusted the duffel bags in his hands. Rory stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick, sweet kiss. "Don't worry," she said calmly, "everything will be fine."

Tristan gave her a nervous smile and nodded his head, mumbling, 

"Of course everything will be fine." Rory hid her smile. He sounded more like he was trying to reassure himself instead of her. 

Rory remembered walking into his apartment with her spare key two weeks ago after getting off the phone with her mother to find him sitting quietly on the couch, deep in thought. He always got like that around the holidays. Rory thought back to Thanksgiving and remembered asking him to come back with her, but he had declined insisting that he had to work. Rory had commented on how unfair that was and, reluctantly, he admitted that he was the restaurant's holiday guy.

"What do you mean?" Rory asked, slightly confused by the title.

Tristan found his hands in his lap very interesting and hesitated before answering. "I mean…well, whenever there's a holiday, most of the workers have family to go back to, but I…I'm always available, so I'm working all this weekend." Rory had known instinctively what he was going to say before he had stopped himself. 

He didn't have anyone waiting for him. She knew, since he had run away from those horrible people he called parents, that he didn't have anywhere to go on such family-centered events. With her heart breaking, Rory had leaned over and kissed him. 

"Okay," she said, pulling back a moment later. "But you tell your boss that you get all of Christmas off this year because you're going to Stars Hollow with me, okay?" 

Tristan was quiet for a moment before finally nodding and raising his gaze to hers. "Okay…I'd like that a lot." 

He had smiled shyly and Rory had returned with a grin and hugged him, feeling protective of the guy with his arms wrapped lovingly around her. 

As Christmas drew closer, Tristan had become more and more tense and it took a lot of persuading on Rory's part to convince him to keep his promise.

"It'll be great!" Rory had been raving in the car on the way here. "We'll drink yucky eggnog and sing every Christmas carol we can think of! Everybody's going to come over and Sookie will cook! And we'll go out into the Town Square – they always have fun stuff going on at Christmas – and you'll meet everybody, too! And then we'll watched _Scrooged,_ because we can't break tradition and then we'll stay up all night wondering about what presents we're going to get! Then, on Christmas morning, the one day when Mom and I wake up early, we'll open our presents and have a snowball fight on the way to Luke's! You'll love it Tristan, you really will!" Rory had been out of breath by the time she finished her babbling but she was giddy with excitement. 

Tristan, on the other hand, had silently given her a tense, nervous smile and kept his eyes on the road. Rory had noticed how his knuckles turned white from his grip on the steering wheel. 

He was scared.

Rory hadn't known what to do then and she was just as baffled now. But in her heart she understood his apprehension. She had seen that image of his Christmas when he was six. She had seen the joyless day and the disappointing evening. She had felt the unsurpassed loneliness. And she was determined to make this year different, to show him the magic of Christmas for the first time. Rory shuddered at the thought of her caring, sweet boyfriend being subjected to such a horrible holiday for the past twenty years. 

Presently, it was hard to ignore the merriment that was permeating her soul. From the huge Christmas tree in the Town Square, to the lampposts decked with large, red bows and the wreaths on every door…everything just screamed Christmas and Rory was in paradise. 

The sound of feet thundering around inside the house brought Rory out of her joyful trance and, before either of the two could prepare themselves, the door was suddenly thrown open.

In a flurry of hair curlers, frenzied shouting, and flying hands Hurricane Lorelai tore out of the house and tackled her daughter. The flurry of movement was too fast for Tristan's eyes to catch and all he could comprehend where the rushing colours accented with the occasional "Mini-me!", "Great one!", and delighted bouts of giggles. 

After what seemed like forever, the laughter subsided and the two Gilmore women detached themselves from one another. Lorelai stepped back and turned to face him and Tristan saw the spitting image of his girlfriend. The same bright smile, same laughing eyes, the same luxurious long brown hair…at least he assumed it was under those crazy torture styling devices.

"So you're the Hot One my daughter tells me about!" Lorelai exclaimed, smiling. "I see that not only has she acquired my good looks but my good judgment as well!" Rory, after living her whole life with this crazy woman, had warned Tristan about her wildly insane behaviour, but both were left flushed from the pointed statements.

Lorelai, with a scrutinizing mother's eye, examined the blushing young man in front of her. This guy had Rory jumping over the moon every time she saw him and Lorelai's only concern was that he wouldn't be able to resist submitting to the Hartford behaviour he had been unfortunate enough to have grown up with. She knew, better than anybody, how heartless Hartford socialites could be but she had escaped it all and she was hoping Tristan would continue to follow her path. 

But upon witnessing the sputtering 20-year-old, she felt the few worries she had had begin to fade away. 

"I…um…I, well…" Tristan stammered. He was meeting Rory's mother for the first time and she calls him hot? What was he supposed to say to that? "I'm flattered…but I don't think I deserve the…Hot One title." He finished lamely, cursing his wit for running away with its tail between its legs. 

"Do not speak blasphemy, young man!" Lorelai held up her hand, adopting a deep, male voice, then let it fall again. She stuck out her hand and resumed in her usual, cheerful voice. "Welcome to Stars Hollow, Tristan." 

Tristan, deciding to be bold, took her hand and leaned over it, placing a kiss on the back of her hand. "It's a pleasure, Lorelai," He said, straightening up again. "Rory's told me all about your…escapades." 

Lorelai was impressed by his sense of humour and she played along, knowing that if she commented on the formal greeting that he would revert back to the shy, quiet guy Rory loved just as much. "I'm impressed! Rory, just where did you find him? A wide vocabulary and he has manners!"

Tristan laughed and Rory stood back a little, watching her crazy mother and her now calm boyfriend interact with a blissful smile on her face. 

Lorelai continued on. "One of the few things Hartford society is any good for!" 

Rory's smile faltered as she heard Tristan suck in a quick breath. She watched, wishing she could turn back time and erase what her mother had said, as Tristan's grin disappeared and the light in his eyes went out. 

Lorelai realized her mistake a moment too late and glanced back and forth between her daughter and her boyfriend. Rory had told her about how cruel Tristan's parents were to him and Lorelai understood; she had suffered through meeting his father. Even her parents, the esteemed Richard and Emily Gilmore who would bend over backwards for anyone who was part of their distinguished society, disapproved strongly of William and Priscilla DuGrey. Lorelai noticed Tristan's sad eyes as they darted around, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. 

"I…I'm so sorry, Tristan. I didn't mean to bring up any painful memories for you."

Tristan was already bending down to pick up the duffel bags at his feet when he responded. "That's okay. It's no problem." 

Both the Gilmore's could see that it wasn't okay but they could tell how badly Tristan wanted to drop the subject so neither of them decided to press him. 

"Why don't we head inside." Rory turned to Tristan as they passed over the threshold. "I'll give you the five second tour of the house and the five minute tour of our lovely town." 

He nodded quietly, gracing her with a lopsided half-smile. 

"You guys can put the bags down there," Lorelai instructed. "I'll put some order to this place sometime during the next fifty years."

Tristan bent over to drop the bags and Lorelai mouthed a quick, 'I'm sorry' to Rory, who nodded and gave a thumbs-up. She knew Tristan better than anyone and all would be forgotten.

The mood had risen again and they were all smiling as Rory and Lorelai paraded Tristan through the house and reenacted memorable events that happened in each room over the last twenty years.

Tristan was bombarded with funny pictures, colourful, cluttered rooms, stuffed animals, an array of mismatched furniture and confusingly overflowing wardrobes…and he loved every second of it. The two Gilmores shouted at him from both sides, eager to reveal the 'best part', in a confusing, hilarious narrative of Rory's life that had Tristan laughing non-stop. 

The mess, the smells, the light streaming through the windows, and the dirty cartons from last night's take-out on the counter. To Tristan it looked so much like a house that was truly a home. It was everything, along with Rory, that he could ever want.

"And this-" Lorelai started breathlessly.

" – is the end of the tour." Rory finished as they flopped, in various, careless positions onto the couch, and pulled him down in between. 

Tristan couldn't help but grin as he thought of the crazy mother-daughter duo. They were so in tune to each other; they knew what the other was going to say before they said it and they were capable of having extremely minimal worded conversations that left Tristan's head spinning. They were a team, best friends, true family. 

For Tristan, it was bittersweet to think about but he tried to keep his thoughts away from his family history and decided that he was overjoyed that Rory and Lorelai had been blessed with each other and that he had been welcomed into their world. 

"So, what do you think?" Rory questioned from her position, leaning against the arm of the couch with her legs stretching across his, her feet resting in her mother's lap.

"I love it!" Tristan answered, enthusiastically. "It's perfect." 

"You think so?" Lorelai joked, "because Rory keeps insisting that I should get off my lazy butt and straighten up once in a blue moon."

Rory rolled her eyes in playfully objection as Tristan shook his tousled blond head. "No," he answered; his bright eyes surveying the room like a child see a Christmas tree packed with presents. "I like the clutter. It looks lived in. It looks like a home." 

Both Lorelai and Rory resisted the urge to hug him as their thoughts simultaneously drifted back to the impersonal, cold mansions that dominated Hartford. "I agree." Rory murmured. 

"Completely." Lorelai added. 

A content silence settled over them, a silence that was soon broken by the insistent ringing of a telephone. 

Lorelai groaned out loud. "No! Not the phone!"

"Is that bad?" Tristan questioned, confused. 

"Of course that's bad! If the phone is ringing we have to answer it to get it to shut up and if we have to answer it we have to find it first!" 

"Go get it, Mom," Rory ordered.

"No, you go get it," Lorelai insisted.

"I'm younger!" Rory protested.

"Exactly!" exclaimed Lorelai.

"So age before beauty, right?" Rory grinned triumphantly, knowing she had won. 

"Ugh!" Lorelai groaned. "You lucky you're smart _and _pretty or else you would have been punished severely for your obviously inherited disrespectfulness!"

"Um…disrespectfulness isn't a word, Mom."

"Silence, insolent fool! I will not tolerate such a cruel tone!"

"Well, then go."

"No!"

"Or we can let the machine get it!" Rory chirped, causing Tristan to chuckle at their antics. 

Another groan. "No we can't, evil child of mine. What if Bono is finally returning my calls?" 

Both Tristan and Rory laughed at the chance of that and Lorelai added one final last thought. "Or what if it's my mother? God knows how much I love avoiding her calls, but if I miss out on some important Christmas details she'll have my head put on a platter and you'll be eating me for Christmas dinner! You know, just like those pigs with the apple thing and – "

"Mom?" Rory interrupted.

"Hmm?"

"Go!" 

Lorelai rose reluctantly, mumbling about 'disrespectfulness' and 'young kids these days'.

Rory grinned and focused on Tristan. She was about to ask him what he thought of her mother when she noticed his odd behaviour. "What are you doing?" She questioned, completely bewildered. Tristan was swinging his head from side to side, looking at her then quickly shifting his gaze to where her mother had been sitting over and over again.

"I'm sorry, it just the way you guys talk. It was challenging to keep up with conversation so I decided to just watch and listen but now my head won't stop doing this." Finally, Rory understood that he was playfully making fun of her and her mother's rapid, confusing way of conversing. 

Tristan let the charade fall and laughed as Rory reached out and messed up his hair. "You're such a nerd!" She cried out.

"Oh, I'm the nerd?" Tristan questioned, mock indignation covering his face. "We'll see about that!"

Suddenly he pounced on her and was reaching for her sensitive spot. "No, Tristan! No tickling! Please this isn't fair!" Rory protested, half laughing, half screaming. 

But he was relentless. He knew where she was most ticklish and there was no way he was showing any leniency now. "Beg for mercy!" He demanded, a devilish grin heightening his handsome features. 

"Never!" Rory cried back, tears pouring down her laughing face.

"Mercy or we move on to harsher tactics!" Tristan threatened, never stopping the tickling.

"No! Not that, anything but that!" Rory knew what he would do and she wanted to avoid that torture.

"Then swallow your pride and cry mercy!" Tristan had adopted an English accent and pushed the words out between his laughter, changing his position so that he was lying on top of her. 

"I'll never surrender!"

"So be it! Breathe your last!" Tristan stopped tickling and transferred his grip so that he was holding both of her slim wrists in one hand. He then used his other hand to pull up Rory's shirt just enough to reveal her belly button.

"No!" Rory screamed, but Tristan's selective hearing had not picked up on the one word he was waiting to hear. 

So he did the one thing he could do. He swooped down and placed his open mouth on her warm skin. Pausing just a moment to hear her suck in a sharp breath between giggles, he blew out as hard as she could. 

Rory roared with laughter as the funny feeling raced around her tummy and more tears poured down her face. 

"Alright…," she cried as soon as she could breathe again, "…Mercy!"

Tristan gently pushed himself off her and his caring hands helped her back up into a sitting position. "I knew you'd see it my way!"

"I did not! That was extreme torture…I had no choice!" Rory struggled to regain her composure and salvage her dignity but her cheeks were still flushed with laughter and her eyes alive with happiness. 

"Exactly…I win!" Tristan cried triumphantly.

"What do you mean you win?!" Rory cried incredulously. 

Lorelai laughed quietly from her position in the doorway and wiped the tears from her eyes as she watched the two twenty-year-olds carry on. She had walked into the room to give Rory the phone when she heard Tristan shouting about mercy. She decided to watch as he moved on top of her daughter and she was about to interrupt when she saw what he was planning to do. Lorelai herself had tears streaming down her face from laughing so hard as she observed Tristan lovingly torture her daughter. She had also seen his gentle, caring grip on her wrists. Rory could have easily freed her hands but she too was enjoying the moment of levity. Lorelai watched while they returned to their previous positions and noticed how Tristan tenderly brushed Rory's hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tiny voice screaming at her from the electronic in her hand. She jumped and moved the phone back to her ear, "Oh! I'm sorry, Lane, but Rory was a little…held up. I'll get her now."

The couple on the couch turned at the sound of Lorelai's voice, laughing softly at her play on words. Rory got up with a final, "We'll finish this later", and took the phone from her mother and moved into the kitchen.

"So…" Lorelai started, watching as Tristan sprang up from the couch and began pacing, stopping only to look at the various picture of her and Rory thrown around the room. 

He bravely turned around and faced her. "I…I'm sorry if you found that…inappropriate. I –"

Lorelai grinned and shook her head. "Tristan, it's okay. It's good to see the two of you smiling." Tristan nodded silently, and Lorelai noticed that even his ears were red. 

He turned around again and picked up a photo frame. Lorelai didn't need to see it to know which one it was. "That was Rory's six birthday party. I made a cake and all her little friends came over…" Her voice drifted off as she thoughts flew back. Suddenly a smile crept over her features and her eyebrows twitched as she tried to suppress a laugh. "Of course, that was also the day that she sneeze while she was eating and spaghetti came out of her nose!"

Tristan laughed softly and put down the frame. He took another step and reached for another. "What about this one?" 

Lorelai walked up beside him and stared at the photo. "That was three years ago… on Christmas Eve." Lorelai watched the sad smile take over his face. 

"She's looks happy," He murmured, observing his girlfriends flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and blissful smile. He also couldn't help but take notice of the reindeer nose fastened to her face and the piece of holly Lorelai dangled above their heads as she pointed to her cheek, demanding a kiss. 

"Yeah…" Lorelai whispered, thinking back to that night. "She really was." 

Tristan slowly put the frame back down. "She loves Christmas the most doesn't she?" He questioned, already knowing the answer. 

"That she does." Lorelai confirmed, just as softly. She regarded Tristan quietly thoughtfully for a moment. "What about you?" 

Tristan looked up at her, startled. "Well,…I…My family was never…too big on holidays. I…I don't really have a favourite, I guess."

Lorelai, after twenty years of raising a child, could see beyond Tristan's façade, she could read between the lines. She understood that his family had never taken part in any holidays, that he didn't have a favourite because he had never really experienced one, and because it was too painful to think about that. 

"Tristan, Rory probably told you that my parents are very respectable members of Hartford's high society." Tristan nodded, feeling apprehensive about where this was going. "I lived through it, too, although I think I was more lucky than you. I…I know what it's like and, just like you, I got away from it all. And, no matter how much she wants to, Rory could never understand what it's like. And I know we've just met but what I'm trying to say is, if you ever need someone to talk to about it…" She leaned over and hugged Tristan, who reluctantly returned the embrace. She pulled back and stared into his lonely eyes, patting his arm reassuringly, "I'm here for you, too. Okay, kiddo?"

Tristan was silent for a moment, looking at Lorelai from under lowered lashes. The two Gilmore women were the most caring, admirable people he had ever met. He had wanted Rory do understand him completely and still love him and, thanks to her loving nature, he had gotten his dream. Now, he wondered if it was too much to wish for a real family. 

He smiled softly, understanding that he may not have them forever, but he was lucky enough to be here with them now. "Yeah…okay."

"Good," Lorelai responded, letting her serious smile fall into a cheerful grin. Taking Tristan by the arm, she spun on her heel and headed for the kitchen. "Come on. Let's go find that crazy daughta o' mine and then we'll hit the town."

~~~~~~

"And this is where I've eaten almost everyday of my life before I moved to New Haven," Rory explained as they concluded the Stars Hollow Tour. 

Not surprisingly, it had taken them a whole twenty minutes since they were stopped every three seconds by crazed townspeople desperate to know just who _'that charming young man' _was. Because of this, Lorelai and Rory were forced to make up distractions in order to save an overwhelmed Tristan. Some of them had been rather simple, like insisting to Kirk that they had just witnessed an alien spacecraft land in his front yard. They then resuced him from sharing his thoughts on _the Civil War and it's effects on cows _by swearing to Taylor that they had just seen juvenile delinquents pressing their faces to the glass of Ye Olde Soda Shoppe. 

"They what?!" He had cried, spinning quickly to check. By the time he turned back they were already gone. 

Others, like Miss Patty, had presented quite the challenge. For that one, Lorelai had had to resort to paying a little girl, ahead of time, insist that she had seen a George Clooney/Brad Pitt look alike enter her dance studio asking for her. Tristan was lucky that the little girl was such a good actress. He had been about two inches away from getting his butt pinched. 

"A hardware store?" Tristan questioned presently, that look of bewilderment stealing across his face for the umpteenth time that night. 

"Don't ask," Rory grinned, taking him by the hand and pulling him through the door. 

"You'll see," Lorelai added, ushering him in from behind. "Prepare yourself." 

The overcrowded dinner fell absolutely silent as the trio burst through the door. Tristan, shocked and startled, froze instantly, causing Lorelai, who, of course, wasn't looking where she was going, to smack into the wall that was his back. She stood on tiptoes and peered over his shoulders. _Ah! It's worse than I thought it would be!_

"Rory," She whispered quickly. "Boothus backus; his faceth walleth."

Tristan barely had time to wonder what the heck Lorelai had just said before Rory pulled him to the farthest booth, pushing through her crazy neighbours and ignoring the whispers that started up immediately on their heels. 

Tristan, on the other hand, was feeling the pressures of their stares and tried to avoid their gazes, following Rory blindly and never letting go of her hand. He had always hated being in the spotlight but he had been able to mask his fear…a skill that had faded with time. 

After what seemed like forever, they finally made it to the booth and Rory moved to let Tristan slide in first, facing the wall, and slid in behind him. 

"I'm sorry about that," She whispered, taking hold of his hand. "Small towns, their townsfolk may _look_ normal, but trust me, they're not."

Tristan laughed. He had seen ample evidence to support that tonight. "Hey, it's no problem. I've always wanted my fifteen minutes of fame."

Rory laughed at his joke and they sat in content silence until Lorelai appeared, followed by Luke bearing food. 

Lorelai set down the three coffees and…gracefully threw herself down across from them and Luke stiffly put the food down and turned to Tristan. 

"Who are you? What are you doing here? What do you want from Rory?" His questions came out, one after the other, without giving Tristan any time to answer. 

Rory had prepared Tristan for meeting Luke as well. "Tristan DuGrey, sir. Lorelai and Rory graciously invited me to spend Christmas here with them. And I don't want anything from Rory, other than her love and company…sir." 

Luke blinked at the kid who was staring to bravely at him. Of course, underneath it all, Tristan was practically shaking. He knew that this guy was basically the closet thing Rory had ever had to a full time father. His approval would mean a lot to her. 

"Huh," Luke huffed, a rare gleam in his eyes. "You just might survive, kid." With that, he turned on his heel and returned to his work.

Silence. And, then, "_Wow!_". Lorelai. 

"That is the closest I have ever come to seeing Luke actually like someone!" Lorelai virtually screamed. "It is so official, you're part of the team now, Tristan!" 

Lorelai gave him a high-five and Tristan laughed as relief flooded him. 

"That was amazing!" Lorelai carried on. "Hey, Rory? Wanna bet that my man Tristan here could easily convince Luke to give us coffee for life?"

Her daughter rolled her eyes. 

"No, seriously! I think Luke might have the hots for him! I knew it! All that flannel! Hey, maybe…" 

Rory reached for the coffees as her mother babbled on. She pushed one towards Tristan, who accepted it with a soft smile, and drank deeply. 

He had met and charmed her mother.

He had toured the town. 

He had survived meeting Kirk, Miss Patty, Taylor, and Luke. 

He deserved it.

~~~~~~

"Alright, the living room's prepped and ready!" Lorelai shouted as she finished tucking the sheets around the couch for Tristan to sleep on. 

"Okay!" Rory called back, spitting out the last of her toothpaste and moving aside to let Tristan do the same. 

They had stayed coherent through a hilarious viewing of _School of Rock _and had already changed for bed. Rory was decked out in her Christmas pajamas, a soft red tank with matching flannel bottoms cover in cute reindeers with ear muffs and candy canes in their hands. Tristan wore dark green pajama pants, a change from the usual boxers, and a gray muscle shirt. 

Rory shut off the tap and turned to leave, only to walk right into a muscular chest. Strong arms wrapped around her as Tristan leaned back against the door. 

"I'm tired," he mumbled into her hair. 

Rory laughed as she snuggled in. "Well, you had a very eventful day."

Tristan snickered playfully. "You can say that again." Silence fell as Rory listened to his thrumming heartbeat, thinking of a night alone. 

Ever since that night at the pond they had taken to the habit of sleeping in the same bed. Nothing ever happened…well, not too much, but Tristan always seemed to sleep easier. He was beginning to see spirits less and less often, he hardly ever tossed or turned and his nightmares had virtually disappeared. And on the rare occasion that he did suffer through one, Rory was always right there to comfort him and soothe him back into sleep. 

Tristan sighed, his thoughts on the same wavelength, as Rory pulled back and reached for the door handle. She didn't get far before she was pulled right back. "Don't go."

Rory giggled as she heard the playful pleading in his voice. 

"Stay with me," he carried on.

"And do what? Sleep in the bathroom?"

"Mmhmm," he mumbled into her hair. She could tell that he was already half asleep. "That shower looks mighty comfortable."

Rory laughed as his half-false desperation. She had offered to tell her mom that Tristan had trouble sleeping when she wasn't around and that Lorelai wouldn't mind letting them sleep together but Tristan had refused. "I don't want her to think of me as one of those guys that only stay with a girl for one reason," he had explained. True to his word, she hadn't been able to make him budge. 

"As tempting as that sounds, you've got to get to bed…on the couch." Tristan groaned playfully and let her pull away.

She reached up for a deep kiss. Her hands took hold of his chiseled chin and she pressed against him, loving his nearness. Tristan wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss, resorting to nibbling on her lip in the way he knew drove her crazy. 

For several moments, Rory forgot who and where she was. For a couple of moments, she was in the clouds. 

Finally she pulled back, placing one last quick peck on Tristan's swollen lips. "Good night, Tristan."

He snorted. "Ha! _Now_ you expect me to fall asleep, after _that_ you think that I'm capable of focusing on something other than you! You are cruel, Rory Gilmore."

"And I love you, Tristan DuGrey…but go to bed."

Tristan laughed and kissed her once more. 

"Good night." Holding her close once more, he whispered into her hair, "I love you, too, Rory."

"Sweet dreams, Tristan."

~~~~~~

Tristan turned over restlessly for the thousandth time in three hours. No matter how hard he tried he just couldn't get to sleep but, God, was he tired. He had tried daydreaming about Rory and him until he was too exhausted to think anymore, he had tried closing his eyes and picturing his thoughts floating away on little clouds, and he had even resorted to counting sheep. Nothing worked.

It wasn't the couch he was sleeping on; no sharp objects were poking into his back. It wasn't too cold or too hot under the blankets. There was just this restless, anxious feeling pouring off him in waves. 

Sighing, whether from annoyance or exhaustion he couldn't tell, Tristan got up from the comfy couch and struggled, in the darkness, to make in to the kitchen. 

A glass of water, that would help. If he could find a glass and accomplish filling it without waking Lorelai or Rory. 

Tristan stubbed his toe on something and twisted quickly to avoid walking full into the chair he had just discovered. He stumbled as quietly as he could, reminding himself that Rory was sleeping peacefully in the next room. 

After he regained his footing, he took careful steps around the table, reaching his hands out to feel for cabinets. He could flick the light on but he was worried that it would seep under Rory's door and wake her up. Usually, she wasn't a very light sleep, but, all the same, he didn't want to disturb her. 

So for a few moments that seemed like forever, he opened a few doors and reached tentatively inside, careful not to knock over any glass if he found some. 

He gave up moments later and turned, deciding to head back to his makeshift bed. The red numbers above the stove caught his eye. _2:35. _God, he needed to get some sleep. 

Turning into the hallway, Tristan resumed his slow, quiet steps. 

He was just coming to the stairs when a cold feeling swept over him. 

~~~~~~

Lorelai turned over and glanced at the clock. _2:37. Ugh! _For some strange reason she had just woken up. There hadn't been a noise…at least, she didn't think there was. Her windows were tightly shut and her open door showed that their were no lights on.

_Hmmm…that's strange. _

Lorelai had this funny feeling in her stomach, a nagging impression that she couldn't shake.

Rory. 

And Tristan. She should go check on them.

Tearing the sheets back, Lorelai pushed herself wearily out of bed and searched blindly for her housecoat. Finally succeeding in find the darn thing, she threw it around her and headed for the stairs.

The house was eerily quiet. 

Lorelai ignored the thought and took another step down the stairs. From the light coming in through the half-shaded windows, she could see that the bed she had made for Tristan was vacant.

He had probably moved into Rory's. Lorelai wanted to smile at that thought, she really did…but she couldn't. 

__

Oh well, at least that means I can turn on the light without waking him. 

Lorelai reached back for the switch and hit it on. She then turned back and froze.

There, beside the stairs, staring straight at her was Tristan. He had one elbow on the railing and his body leaned against it in the most majestic way. His lips were spread into a soft, all-knowing smile. An frighteningly familiar smile that Lorelai had only seen in one person…

"Tristan?" She called softly, trying to keep all fear out of, and forcing normalcy into, her voice. What if her daughter, without knowing, had brought home a crazed murderer? "What are you doing up, kiddo?"

"Waiting for you, _cara." _

Lorelai could feel her blood running cold at the nickname. _Dear. _The nickname that her Pappy had used to call her by. 

_But that's not possible_, a little voice in her head cried. _Pappy died years before Rory was even born!_

Lorelai had pushed the man, all memories, and the feelings of betrayal that he had instilled away. It wasn't possible; it was just Tristan playing a joke. But how could he know that name? Rory didn't know and Lorelai herself certainly hadn't told him. 

But she could see it now. That stance, that smirk…only Pappy could do that, only Pappy could look so regal and so mischievous at the same time. 

"Come closer, _cara_. Pappy needs to speak with you." The man at the bottom of the stairs continued. It was Tristan's voice, Lorelai could tell, but something was different about it, something was…off.

Without thinking she walked down to the landing until she was directly in front of him, staring down at his eyes. 

He held up his hands and she took it, letting him lead her down and around to stand in front of him, just like he had countless times when she came down the stairs for dinner. 

He rested her hands on her shoulders and, to Lorelai, the once blue eyes were a dark, wise green.

"Ah, _cara_," He sighed. "There is something I must tell you."

"What?"

He smiled gently at her and was quiet for a long time. Finally, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

"For what, Pappy?" Lorelai couldn't believe this was happening. Her daughters boyfriend was acting and speaking to her just as her grandfather had before he died.

"For not telling you I was sick."

Suddenly, all her anger and feelings of betrayal came back ten fold. She remembered her father and mother sitting her down to tell her that her beloved Pappy had died, that they had seen it coming for many years. She remembered screaming at them, demanding to know why she had never been told. Her parents had been too ashamed to look her in the eyes and she had fled from the room. 

All at once, Lorelai was crying again. "Why did you, Pappy? Why?"

"It was a mistake, _cara_. I am truly sorry. You couldn't imagine how much I've missed you."

"You couldn't imagine how much it hurt to hear about your cancer from my parents!" She hurled back.

He only smiled at her, with those loving, insightful, playful eyes and pulled her into his warm embrace. "Rory's incredible," he murmured, pulling back slightly. "I'm so proud of you both."

Lorelai pushed him away. "How could you leave me?" She cried in despair. 

He smiled again and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I love you both, _cara_. Always. Forever." He whispered.

Lorelai pushed him away angrily. "How could you leave me?" She repeated. 

She was met with confused, frightened blue eyes. "Lorelai?" Tristan questioned softly and she could tell that, whatever had been in his voice before, in his eyes, was gone. 

Suddenly she was sobbing. She pushed Tristan again and again, calling for her grandfather to come back. 

Rory came rushing from her room and wrapped her arms around her mother, stopping her flailing hands from hitting Tristan again. "It's okay, Mom," she murmured comfortingly. "Everything's going to be okay."

Her mother responded with another sob and a soft cry of "Pappy."

Rory gently turned her mother towards the stairs and gently pulled her up to her room. She lay her down and kissed her forehead, holding her hand until her tears stopped and she fell back to sleep. 

Rory sighed, exhausted, as she closed the door to her mothers bedroom and headed back down the stairs, leaving the light on. She knew what had happened. Another ghost had taken control of Tristan but in a different way this time. Rory felt the weight of the world on her shoulders as she passed by the vacant couch, thinking that her great-grandfather's spirit had contacted her mother. 

They would have to explain everything to her mother now and Rory could only pray that she would somehow understand. 

Following the light to her bedroom, Rory turned the corner and stopped in her tracks. 

There, on her bed, sat Tristan. His legs were pulled up to his chest, crossed at the ankles, and his arms surrounded them as he rocked himself back and forth, tears streaming down his beautiful face. 

She walked slowly over to him and caressed his cheek. He hesitantly raised his head and stared up at her through his tears. 

"I'm so sorry, Rory." He pushed out in between sobs. "I don't understand what happened. I –"

She kissed him softly. "It's okay, Tristan. I know." She clicked on her lamp and shut off the light, pulling back the covers as she lay down and motioned Tristan to lay next to her. He obeyed and she wrapped her arms around his shaking body.

"It was like…like he was inside me, Rory. I…I couldn't control what was happening. I was so afraid…"

Rory's grip on him tightened and she kissed his forehead. "Shh, Tristan. Everything will be better in the morning."

He sniffled softly, trying to swallow his tears as he buried his face in her neck. "I love you, Rory," He murmured. 

"I love you, too, Tristan," she whispered back, trying to hide her own tears. "Rest now."

~~~~~~

There ya go! One more chapter left!!!!!!!! 

About my next story (if it happens): all I can say is that there is a young rookie detective who never gets a chance and a murder that occurs. The detective and the surviving victim's lives are thrown together as they the detective tries to figure out who the murderer is before he comes back for the one who got away…will they be too late?

It may sound lame but, with the details, I really like it. 

Review plz and tell me what you think!!!!!!

Madz!!!!!!


	17. What I've Really Been Needing To Say

**__**

A/N: _Alrighty guys, I chalked it up (well, not exactly) and it looks like most of you guys asked for half the chapter and majority rules (sorry to all of those who voted to keep it whole. You don't have to read this if you don't want to, you can wait for the other bit but it might be awhile.) so here it is, if you can believe that this is only half a chapter. _

Special thanks goes out to CinnamonAngel for the encouragement and threats!!! Go check out her fic "Salvation of an Angel"! It's really good!!!!

Anyways, my final exams are coming up in like 3 weeks so I probably won't post the last bit until February. I hope that this sustains you until then…

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Disclaimer: Oh, and did I mention that this is all mine. Mine, mine, MINE!!!!!!!!! Jks, or at least, my Tristan is…… * **get your mind outta the gutter, woman** * 

(Nervously) Um…ah…oh! Oh yeah, as always, reviews are greatly appreciated. à ** insert cheeky grin ß **

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Chapter 17:

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What I've Really Been Needing to Say

Rory sighed heavily as she quietly passed through the door to her mother's bedroom. She paused and looked around, slowly taking in the drawn shades, impenetrable darkness and the black shadows it gave birth to. She hesitated a moment longer, her mind falling back to the strange events of the night before. The possession. 

A chill crept up Rory's spine as she thought of the word, but that's what it was, there was no other name to call it. Her great-grandfather, who had been dead for the past twenty-two years had somehow taken control of her boyfriend's body. Or at least, his spirit had. That was how Tristan had described it to her this morning.

She had woken up and turned her head lazily to see Tristan's intense gaze focused on her, penetrating down to her soul. She knew that he was done with sleeping and that he couldn't get his racing mind off last night's occurrence. His body lay still, but she could feel the tension coming off him in waves. He was afraid. 

Afraid because last night he had completely lost control. 

She reached over and brushed his cheek soothingly, reveling in the feeling of his warm, smooth skin. 

"I love you," he whispered softly. 

Rory smiled, happy to wake up to nothing other than this for the rest of her life. "I love you back."

His calming voice joined hers on the next words. "Always. Forever."

Rory felt joy rushing through her veins at this. True elation. She remembered when they had made this up months ago, lying on the couch, speaking every random thought that came to their minds while Bon Jovi's "Always" played over and over on the CD player. Food, movies, music. Rory didn't know how long it was before she uttered those three simple words. Neither could she describe what she felt as he leveled his blue, blue eyes with hers and whispered right back. 

Now, he closed his eyes painfully and pressed his forehead to hers. If Rory was capable of anything she would take all of his pain onto her own shoulders. But he started speaking then, because he knew what she was silently asking him. Call it a connection, but he could almost hear her every thought and she could feel his every emotion. 

It was how she had woken up in time to stop her mother from attacking him last night. Rory was usually quite a heavy sleeper but while her logical brain was lost in the realm of sub-consciousness, she had felt an overwhelming fear course through her. Instantly awake, she ran out of the room and down the hallway to find her sobbing mother banging her clenched fists against Tristan's chest as he stared down at her, his tortured blue eyes evidently filled with confusion and fear. 

This morning, she had cuddled closer to him, needing his warmth and protection as he told her the chilling tale. He had been looking for a glass of water and, after giving up on finding anything in the darkness of the chaotic Gilmore kitchen, he had decided to return to his makeshift bed on the couch, determined not to wake Rory up by turning on any lights. He had come to the stairs when he felt a coldness cover him, like having several vents spewing air-conditioning focused on him. The next thing he knew he was leaning against the banister as Lorelai flicked on the lights and started speaking to him.

Tristan said that he had felt like he was watching a silent movie of which he was the star, only he was stuck in the back row of the theater. The images seemed far away, distant, and they crept by slowly with no volume. He had seen Lorelai's heartbroken face and he had felt his body moving, as if of it's own will. That was when he realized that he felt cramped. As if there were two people stuffed into one burial casket, was the way he had described it. Rory had shuddered at the metaphor.

Then suddenly, Tristan was back. He had felt himself almost falling down into place as whatever had taken over him dislodged itself from his body and mind. Sound came crashing back as a violent screech and Lorelai's cries and Rory's running feet had been amplified for a moment that left his head aching. As everything returned to its normal pitch, dizziness had swept through him, as if he had stood abruptly after having sat in one position for too long.

Memories of what had taken place bombarded him; like his brain had been too slow to follow the conversation, like a sluggish file was downloading in his head. All at once, Rory was there and then both she and Lorelai were gone. Everything was silent as he struggled to control his breathing, confused, terrified tears pouring swiftly down his cheeks. Standing in the middle of the living room, he had turned, exhausted, toward the couch. 

Just looking at it made him feel lonely, he had offered softly this morning. So he had headed instead for the gentle, warm glow that emitted from Rory's bedroom and curled up on the bed, where she had found him twenty minutes later after she had ensured that Lorelai had fallen asleep. 

Now, here she stood, regarding her mother as she rolled over, still caught in that world between wakefulness and slumber. 

Reaching out a hesitant hand, Rory rubbed her mother's back in a soothing motion, like she had to Tristan many times. 

Lorelai jumped up and shook her off, truly shocked and scared by the unknown person who had crept into her bedroom. 

"Get away from me!" She shouted, struggling in the darkness to see who the figure was. Her biggest fear was that a curtain would be raised and she would find herself staring at Tristan's face, only her daughter's boyfriend's beautiful blue eyes would be that bright, mischievous green she knew so well. Yet at the same time, a part of her was hoping it would happen again. 

She had loved her grandfather with all her heart and losing him was one of the most challenging times in her life, but his visit, however unusual and terrifying, had given her some level of closure and peace. 

"Mom, it's okay! It's just me!" Lorelai instantly recognized the voice and leaned forward to embrace her daughter. 

Rory heard her mother sigh in relief as she crushed her to her chest. 

"Is it just me or did we have one wild night?" The old humour comforted Rory and made it easier to believe that her mother didn't care about what had happened but her tight grip and racing heart told another tale. 

"It isn't just you." 

Rory waited in silence for her mother to pull away. Lorelai leaned back against the headboard and her daughter studied her heavy, weary eyes and slumped shoulders. 

"How are you feeling?" Rory ventured cautiously. 

Lorelai shut her eyes at that and muttered, "Like I'm in the twilight zone."

Rory allowed a soft chuckle to escape as she reached for her mother's hand and spoke, concern evident in her voice. "How are you really feeling, Mom?" 

A soft groan broke the silence in the room that followed Rory's gentle question as Lorelai pulled Rory closer so that mother and daughter could snuggle under the covers. 

"Terrible. Like the world in whirring around in my head and I can't catch hold of anything that makes sense."

"We Gilmore girls never did have a penchant for that," came Rory's playful joke. 

"An excellent point," Lorelai returned, only her voice didn't hold its usual cheery tone. 

A heavy silence permeated the room as both women lost themselves in thought. Rory was praying that the three of them could get through this together. Tristan had been so uncertain and wary about coming to Stars Hollow; Lorelai being afraid of him was all it would take to send him running back to New Haven. To safety. 

To loneliness. 

Lorelai couldn't get her late grandfather's words out of her head or the circumstance through which they had revealed to him. Whenever she closed her eyes, all she could see was the haunting, wise green eyes that didn't quite suit Tristan and the deep, soothing voice that was similar but so different from the young man's. All she could hear was _'cara' _resounding in her head. All she could feel was an absence as green eyes shifted into blue eyes.

Scared blue eyes. 

"Is he okay?" Lorelai questioned hesitantly, not speaking his name just yet. It hurt to think of him and what he had done. 

"He will be," Rory hugged her tightly, finding comfort in her motherly embrace. "But only if you tell him that you'll be fine. You have to understand what he's like, mom. If you can't accept this, if you're scared of him…he'll never forgive himself."

Lorelai didn't answer. She knew that every word her daughter was whispering hesitantly was true. 

"Please don't do that to him, mom. He doesn't deserve to live with that pain. And you don't deserve it, either."

Again, Rory received no answer. Lorelai hated to think that something like this had happened to Tristan before. 

In the few hours that she had known him, Tristan had come off as a very sweet, intelligent, and funny, albeit shy, young man. She had liked him immediately and Lorelai trusted her judgment as much as she did her daughter, both of which were gently suggesting that she put the incident behind her. 

But it was an impossible feat. Even if she could come to accept the fact that her dead grandfather had spoken to her from beyond the grave in a final effort to apologize, what was she left to think about Tristan? 

Lorelai had seen "The Sixth Sense" and "Poltergeist", although she had never been able to make herself watch "The Exorcist". But what did she have in her hands now? Her daughter's boyfriend, who had done the strangest thing last night: become the…host of a possession. 

It was far too bizarre for anyone to rationally accept but Lorelai studied her daughter and saw nothing but love and hope reflecting in her innocent blue eyes. 

Rory wasn't afraid. 

And neither should she be. 

"Rory,…has this happened to him before?" Lorelai held her breath, afraid to hear the answer.

"No! Nothing this…extreme," Rory was praying her mother would leave it at that but even she knew better.

Lorelai could feel fear creeping up on her and she gripped Rory's hand tightly. "What exactly do you mean by that?" 

"I mean that he's never been…controlled like that before. But he's just different, Mom."

"Different how?" Lorelai questioned wearily.

Rory hesitated. She wanted to tell her mother all of it, right here, right now, so badly. But she couldn't. She and Tristan had agreed on that. 

"Mom, please trust me when I say that he is one of the most incredible people I have ever met. He's so kind and selfless…He's suffered so much but he never hesitates to put everyone else's needs before his own."

Lorelai listened thoughtfully to the description and saw something that she couldn't quite understand shining in her daughter's eyes. Without any effort, she believed everything that was passing through Rory's lips. 

"Will you come down stairs and talk to him?" Rory asked, her voice full of hope. 

Lorelai stiffened. She couldn't. Not yet.

She needed time; time to think things through, time to come up with a solution. 

Rory saw her mother tense and, without thinking, leaned forward and hugged her tightly. There was a safety here that she felt in only one other place: Tristan's arms.

She stayed like that until Lorelai returned the embrace. Silence fell as the two women sat together, giving each other comfort and reassurance. 

Slowly, Rory pulled back and look Lorelai in the eyes. 

"Please, mom…for me?"

A war was raging inside of Lorelai. She wanted to bring that full light back into her daughter's eyes yet she wanted Tristan to go so they could return to their normal lives. She wanted to help heal the boy that she had helped hurt yet she was too afraid to look him in the eyes again. She wanted everything to be out in the open yet she couldn't stand the thought of the fictional world of normality in her head being shattered. 

But, with one look into her daughter's eyes, the banners fell, the fighting ceased, and everything became clear. 

"Okay."

~~~~~~~

Save for a ticking clock, the room and its inhabitants were completely silent. Tristan and Rory sat together on the couch, their hands clasped tightly together for support, while Lorelai seated herself across from them. 

_Face-off. _Tristan thought grimly. _She's terrified of me. _

Suddenly, he felt sick again and that old voice taunted him in his head once more. _You're a freak, Tristan, **everybody**_ _is afraid of you._

He knew that Lorelai's fear had turned into anger and was now building a defensive wall around her. It was up to him to dismantle that wall with nothing other than trusting words and careful explanations. 

Rory surveyed the situation and sighed inwardly. This would be a difficult task, she knew. Tristan sat beside her, cautious and unsure, and her mother perched on the edge of her seat, doubtful and afraid. 

__

This is going to be a challenge if there ever was one, Rory thought hopelessly, finally losing a bit of her optimism. 

Without saying a word, Rory rose up and wandered into the kitchen and, pulling three mugs from the cupboard, began to make coffee. 

Moments later, she returned to the room with a tray and distributed a cup to everyone. She handed a bright yellow, smiley face mug to her mother, and silently squeezed her hand before returning to Tristan's side. He accepted the drink but, unlike her mother who was already sipping silently, he wrapped both hands around the warm vessel and stared into its black depths absentmindedly. 

Rory couldn't stand this, with the two of them avoiding everything, including eye contact, they would never solve this. It was time for her to take matters into her own hands. 

"Mom, do you remember just after when Tristan and I started dating? When I told you that I thought he was hiding something from me?" Rory ensured that her voice was gentle, put she felt Tristan stiffen beside her and beheld the same change in her mother's countenance with her eyes. 

Lorelai met her daughter's kind gaze, still avoiding the young man who sat next to her. Hesitantly, she nodded. 

"Well, you probably thought that it was about his parents, about everything you learned from Grandma and Grandpa that night." Again Lorelai nodded. Yes, she had thought that his parent's neglect and mistreatment of him had been the big mystery.

Lorelai's thoughts were momentarily interrupted as Tristan's mug crashed loudly on the table.

He was trying not to get upset but with everything that was happening right now but Rory's mention of his parents had been the last thing he expected. The way that Rory pulled the words out of nowhere shocked him back into reality, hit him like a sucker punch. His mug had tipped dangerously and he slammed it down on the table, knowing his hand wasn't steady enough to prevent a spill. He was hoping that no one saw his startled reaction but the noise was enough to draw more attention then he wanted. He turned his head away from the two women and focused his gaze on the photographs lining the wall. Already, Tristan could feel anger and loneliness rushing through his veins. 

Without thinking, Rory reached for his hand and took hold of his strong jaw, turning him gently until he met her eyes. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Tristan stared into her beautiful eyes. He could read the silent message she was sending him. 

__

I love you. 

Slowly, he felt the overwhelming feeling of solitude disappear and his anger move from William and Priscilla DuGray to himself, for letting them get to him. 

He graced Rory with a gentle smile and nodded, putting all of his love into that single look. 

__

I love you back, he told her. _Always, forever._

It wasn't her fault, not in the least. Tristan cleared his throat, pushing all thoughts of his childhood out of his head, and returned his focus to the matter at hand. 

Lorelai, meanwhile, could feel the bond these two had for each other soaking into every corner of the room. She had seen the infinite pain in Tristan's eyes, had watched as it took over him, leaving his shoulders drooping and his eyes desolate. But then, within an instant, her daughter was smiling at him and her bright light washed away his agony, leaving him with nothing other than true love and support for her shinning in his eyes. 

__

My gosh, Lorelai thought, her heart fluttering in her chest, _they're so-_

Once more her thoughts were interrupted, this time by Rory's gentle, pressing voice. 

"Well, Mom, that was only part of it…there's more…," Rory paused, wondering how to phrase her next words. "You see, ever since he was little, Tristan's been different from everyone else." 

Lorelai stopped drinking her calming elixir as Rory turned to Tristan and looked at him expectantly. She was almost afraid to hear what was about to come out of his mouth.

Tristan felt panic stir in him as Rory turned to him, handing him the spotlight, waiting for him to tell his story. He took a calming breath and faced Lorelai, letting the truth slip out from his hesitant lips. 

"It was the summer just after I turned seven. My parents brought me to their summer home in upstate New York but as soon as we got there, they left for the city. I didn't really think anything of it, I mean, they did that all of the time. Besides, the estate had a pond on it, a big one. Or at least, it seemed that way to me. I was playing there one day, unsupervised, and I thought it would be fun to jump off the dock. I was pretty good at swimming and I knew…" Tristan hesitated and Rory squeezed his hand encouragingly. "I knew that my parents wouldn't care if anything happened to me."

Lorelai felt her heart breaking for this young man. First he suffered through his terrible parents, then his grandfather's death, and then seeing no other option than running away. Even though she was scared, deep down in her heart Lorelai knew that Tristan didn't deserve any of that. She found herself leaning in to listen to his soft, deep voice and realized that with every word he whispered, her fear was lessening.

"Anyway, I did it. I jumped and I expected myself to float right back up but…something happened. I almost died that day, nearly drowned to death was what the doctor said later." Tristan paused for a moment, thinking of the deep black water and the secret creature it held. Fear gripped his heart. He still couldn't stand the thought of water, couldn't get in anything deeper than a bathtub. Twice his life had been endangered by water and the second time, for a moment, he might have actually died. There was nothing as terrifying as trying to understand that.

He awoke from his reverie to find Rory and Lorelai watching him expectantly. A spark of hope lit inside him as he noticed that Lorelai was looking him straight in the eyes.

Clearing his throat, he continued. "Anyway, something…grabbed me when I was down there. They held me under until…until I passed out. But I can still remember him."

Lorelai felt a chill creep through her. _Him? _

Tristan saw the fearful question in her eyes and averted his gaze to the warm mug in his hands. "He looked-he looked like…death. I'm sorry but that's the only way I can describe him. What was left of his skin was pale and…his eyes were pure black, through and through. And he was screaming at me. Funny thing is, we were under water but I could hear him as clearly as if we were sitting on the dock and he had a foghorn pressed to my ear. Then he was shaking me so roughly that I had bruises on my arms for weeks. I remember trying to scream for help and then my lungs were burning and…and I lost consciousness."

Silence hung in the air for many moments. 

"One of the villa staff members found me floating in the water and used CPR on me. The doctor came, although my parents didn't, and he said I would be fine, that next time I would have to be better supervised. I didn't tell anyone about what I saw. After that, they were everywhere."

Tristan paused again; he didn't want to get any deeper into this than he already was. It hurt too much. 

"Who?" 

Tristan's head snapped up to meet Lorelai's eyes. Those were the first words she had spoken to him since last night. 

Sensing that she was becoming less afraid of him, Tristan eased a little. He had thought that as his story went on, her fear would increase, but, then again, the Gilmore girls were always contradicting something. The thought brought a soft smile to his face, one that faded as soon as he saw Lorelai's expectant eyes and the realization hit him that he would have to give her an answer.

Taking a deep breath, he murmured.

"The ghosts."

Lorelai's hands grabbed the arms of her chair until her knuckles turned white and she shot him a disbelieving look, but still she met his gaze head on as she waited for more. 

"Ever since then, I've been able to see things that other people can't, things that normal people believe aren't there, things that shouldn't be there." Hesitantly, slowly, Tristan told her everything. 

He told her about his connection to the spirits and what happened when they touched him. He told her how they came to him for help, although they were never quite satisfied with the outcome. He explained how most of them didn't know that they were dead and that it was his job to tell them. He shared how some of them hurt him, physically hurt him, to get there way.

"But I've never experienced what happened last night," he finished quietly, studying her face fearfully, wondering how she would respond. 

Lorelai was silent for a long moment, although she was perfectly aware that the young couple was waiting for her to speak. 

__

This is unbelievable, her thoughts spun around inside her head. _Simply unbelievable. They can't be serious; Rory wouldn't believe something like this and she certainly wouldn't lie to me._

Another thought hit Lorelai, one that she liked much better. _Where's the hidden camera? _This had to be one of those prank shows. No way was she going to make a fool of herself on national television. 

Pleased with her explanation for all of this, Lorelai glanced at her daughter and Tristan. Out of nowhere, she began to laugh. 

Tristan turned to look at Rory and she could see the pain swamping his blue, blue eyes. He had pushed his secrets out in the open, had placed everything on the line because she asked him to and there was her mother, roaring and giggling in her chair. 

Rory squeezed her boyfriend's hand and whispered that everything would be fine, but Tristan had already turned his gaze down to the floor dejectedly. 

How many times had he been laughed at before? Pain, new and old bombarded him as he closed his eyes, trying to forget the memories of past humiliations while simultaneously blocking out this present one.

After all, what was one more time?

Lorelai continued to carry on, smiling gaily while tears flooded down her face. She found it curious that her joyful actions were such a contradiction to how terrible she felt inside. 

"Mom," Rory whispered, not bothering to raise her voice but silently demanding that her mother stop this behaviour and listen. "He's telling the truth. Every single word."

Silence flooded the room as Lorelai's laughter ceased and she stared, shocked, at her daughter, the person she cared most for in the world. 

"Rory, you can't be serious," She whispered fearfully. 

Her only response was the silent nodding of Rory's head. 

Tristan watched, fearing that Lorelai would laugh so hard that she'd cry again. Needless to say, he was shocked when tears did pour down her face, but in a very different manner. 

Lorelai couldn't help the tears the streamed down her cheeks. If she honestly thought about it, Tristan's assertion wasn't that hard to accept. People did see ghosts, all of the time, even scientists on television acknowledged that there were some things they couldn't explain. 

"So, what?" Lorelai questioned Tristan through her tears, a wild smile on her face. "You're just an older, hotter version of Haley Joel Osmet?"

No answer came and even Lorelai couldn't keep the humourous thoughts in her head for long.

But just coming to realize that there were things out in this world that she couldn't control, things that nobody could understand, things that her daughter was being exposed to, was the hardest goal to achieve. 

Lorelai stared at her daughter through her tears. _I can't always protect her, _she thought sadly. _She isn't my baby girl anymore. _

As if reading her mother's thoughts, Rory flew to Lorelai's side and jumped into her arms. Before long, both women were leaning into each other's embrace, silently crying their hearts out. 

Tristan, watching from his place on the couch, felt his earlier feeling of belonging go up in smoke. Lorelai's joke had restored a tiny amount of his piece of mind but just watching the two mourn and comfort each other reminded Tristan of how much he didn't belong in this setting. 

A unit that functioned together, that looked to each other for support, which openly expressed their thoughts and emotions, and knew and loved each other completely.

This was the definition of the Gilmore girls. 

This was also something Tristan would never have. 

Pushing himself to his feet, Tristan rose and headed for the door. 

"I'll just give you two some time alone," he murmured, wondering if anyone had heard him anyway. At least Lorelai had taken it better than he'd expected. Now he was hoping for a dose of solitude himself. All he wanted was to curl up and take a nap, to get this tired, lonely feeling out of his bones. 

He passed their chair on his way to the front door and nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand reached out and grabbed his wrist. 

He turned, startled, to find Lorelai staring up at him, smiling gently through her tears. 

"I-I'm sorry, Tristan," She said softly. "For treating you the way I did."

Tristan nodded, silently assuring her that he had forgiven her, and began to move once more for the door. But Lorelai's warm hand still gripped his wrist and he stopped as she began to speak hesitantly again. 

"I think that, given a little time, I can come to accept everything you just told me." A pause and Tristan waited anxiously. Then a goofy grin covered her face and her usual comic, self-assured tone broke the silence. "Come see me again in five minutes."

Tristan laughed softly and Lorelai smiled. "Ah! So that's what it's like to see you smiling."

Heat rose to Tristan's cheeks at that comment as his girlfriend giggled against her mother's shoulder. 

"Seriously, though, I want you to know that I am very happy to have you here and that you are welcome in my home anytime, okay?"

Tristan nodded and took a chance to join in the jest. "Anytime? You know I just might take _too much _advantage of that right?"

"But at least you gave me a heads-up. That has to count for something," Lorelai countered with a giggle. 

"My thoughts exactly," Tristan replied, feeling some of the heaviness lift of his shoulders.

"Good. Now, skidaddle and leave me and my daughter for some nice, juicy girl talk."

Tristan smiled and went to find his jacket. 

He needed a place to sit and think about everything that had just happened. He pulled on his boots and headed out the front door, pausing to take a deep breath and stared out at the snowy world that surrounded him. Just being here, standing on Rory's front porch, he felt like the luckiest guy alive. 

__

It's amazing how quickly some things can turn around. 

But in the last half an hour, everything _had_ changed. Two people knew his secret now and just thinking about that made Tristan feel exposed, vulnerable, naked. At the same time, he felt a little lighter, as if now Lorelai, as well as Rory, had taken some of the weight off his shoulders. 

He trusted Rory with his life and he was almost certain that he could feel the same about Lorelai but it was so hard to let go and open up to people. 

But he was learning. Slowly. Taking baby steps out into this new world. 

__

One foot in front of the other, DuGray, he coaxed himself silently in his head. He placed one foot on the first step, then the other on the second. He let his feet take him where they pleased as he contemplated everything and nothing at the same time. 

He tramped through this new town on his own and, along with its peculiarity, he was absorbing what it felt like to know that he had left two people behind. Two people he could trust; two people who really cared for him.

As always, everything in his life happened quickly and was terribly confusing. 

Mother meets boyfriend. Scary. Mother likes boyfriend. Good. Boyfriend hosts a possession. Not good. Mother witnesses possession. Bad. Mother is terrified of boyfriend. Very bad. Mother, daughter, and boyfriend talk. Good. Everything is solved and then boyfriend is kicked out for girl time. 

Tristan winced. He would most definitely be the topic of conversation. 

Definitely not good. 

~~~~~~~

"Thank you so, so much, Mom. You have no idea how much this means to me."

They lay sprawled on the couch that Tristan had just vacated and for the first time since last night, things felt like they were beginning to return to normal. 

Lorelai winked one of her now dry eyes. "Anytime, sugar," she replied in a manly voice. 

"No," Rory giggled. "I'm serious. If you hadn't accepted him, what we have could never work. And I want it to work, I really do."

Lorelai turned to stare at her daughter and studied her silently. Rory's cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright and wild, and a silly grin covered her lips. 

_Wow, _Lorelai thought to herself, but out loud she said:

"Should I order the wedding invitations now?"

"Mom!" Rory slapped her mother playfully as she laughed. "Don't be silly!"

"How do you feel about rush delivery?" Lorelai continued. 

"Ugh!" Rory growled in half-faked frustration.

"Wow, you want him that badly?"

Rory closed her eyes and failed to control the smile that tugged at her lips. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly good-looking? Yup, I always felt that way."

"No, seriously, Mom," Rory turned to her and found herself whispering. "He's special."

"Well than you're lucky you found him," Lorelai whispered back. 

"I know, Mom. Believe me, I know," Rory answered. "When I first met him, I thought that a guy that is that good-looking would have been completely stuck up and egotistical. I was afraid to talk to him but at the same time I really wanted to. I was so scared but I felt like I could trust him, you know?"

Lorelai didn't reply because she could tell from her daughter's soft voice, glowing smile, and dazed eyes that she wasn't expecting one. 

"He just completely shocked me, Mom. I mean, he was so hesitant and shy; it's so hard for him to trust people. I was so enthralled but I couldn't really figure out what made him that way. And when I found out, when he told me what he told you today…Mom, I was so terrible to him. I called him terrible names, I ran away from him, I told him to never speak to me again." Rory paused as she blinked back tears. "I've never seen so much pain in anyone's eyes before and it hurt so much to know that I put it there."

"But you were just scared, sweetie. I know you, better than anyone, and I know that you would never want to hurt anybody. Tristan's a good guy, Rory. He was good enough to forgive you and but it behind him and you need to do the same thing," Lorelai brushed her daughter's hair out of her face and smiled at her. 

"I know, Mom. And I'm trying to. But I don't want to ever see him hurting again."

Smiling at Rory's innocent solemn eyes, Lorelai hugged her daughter tightly. "I know you don't, baby, but at some point in his life he will be hurting. The important thing is that you're there to help him through it. And if he's there for you when you need him…well, that's when you know you've got something special."

A single tear rolled down Rory's smiling face. "I love him, Mom," she whispered. 

Lorelai studied her for a second. She could feel that common stab of pain as she was reminded again of how grown up her daughter was becoming. Her eyes were still that bright, innocent blue but there was also a new hint of wisdom lurking in their depths. Lorelai thought of the matured, sweet young man who complimented her daughter so well and found herself whispering as she spoke. "Really?"

Rory nodded to her mother, gracing her with a secret smile as her mother pulled her into one last embrace.

"Really."

~~~~~~~

"Miss Patty, have you seen-?"

"He's at the gazebo, darling. And can I say that he is one fine specimen!" Rory giggled as she waved goodbye and called back a thank you, continuing on her way. 

The snow crunched beneath her heavy boots, serving as a reminder of Christmas' impending arrival. Everything was perfect or as close to it as it ever could be. 

She had managed to drag Tristan down to Stars Hollow, her mother knew his secret and, although she was a little shaken at first, accepted him, and Rory had never felt so happy. 

Life was ironic like that. Four months ago, she couldn't have imagined how wonderful the holidays would be. Last Christmas, after Dean's death, had been black and dreary. 

How many times had she picked up the phone to call or pulled on her boots to visit just to remember that he wouldn't be there? It had been one of the darkest periods of her life but time had healed her wounds and Tristan was like a light, and had chased away the shadows. 

She could spot him now and his image grew larger with each step she took. He sat on the bench in the middle of the white wooden structure. His glove-less hands were tucked into his pockets and long pajama clad legs stretched out in front of him ending in a pair of black boots dripping with melting snow. 

As she raced happily up the steps, Rory noticed that he only had a light sweater on to protect him against the cold. She herself was decked from head to toe in heavy duty yellow boots, a bright blue ski jacket, and a pair of pink Rudolph gloves and a matching pink hat. 

"Hey, silly," she greeted him as she slipped, rather ungracefully, onto the bench beside him. 

"Hey," He answered back, wrapping a strong arm around her and laughing as he asked, "Did you have a nice trip?"

Rory scowled playfully and refused to answer as she leaned over to grab a handful of snow. 

"And how am I the silly one?" Tristan continued, unfazed, as he gestured towards her gloves. 

"Oh, I don't know," answered a frustrated Rory as she let her pathetic excuse for a snowball drop to the ground. "It's not the good stuff!" She complained.

"Huh?"

"Nothing." Rory giggled at his confused expression. "Anyways, perhaps it's because you aren't wearing a jacket and it's fifty below!"

"It isn't fifty below!" Tristan countered nonchalantly. "And I'm a macho man, remember? I'd sooner freeze to death than admit to feeling a chill."

Rory laughed and turned to watch Taylor shoveling the sidewalk in front of his shop, glad that they had both rebounded so well from last night. "If we had the right snow, I'd show you who wears the pants in this relationship."

Tristan laughed. "Oh really?"

Rory stuck her nose in the air indignantly and turned back. "Yes, re-"

But she was cut off by the snowball that exploded in her face.

"I think I found some packing snow." Came her boyfriend's playful teasing. 

"Tristan!" She squealed, fighting to get the frozen substance of her face. "You are dead!"

"I don't think so." Another snowball hit her but this time he was nice enough to aim for her stomach.

"Oof! That's it, DuGrey!" She shouted as she crouched behind the bench and prepared a snowball.

"Bring it on, Gilmore!"

Tristan dove off the gazebo as she fired away and smacked him in the back. "It's already been broughten!" She shouted in a pitiful imitation of "Bring It On".

All was silent for several moments as Rory crouched, on guard, behind her protective hideout. She waited, watching her three snowballs as they stared up at her. 

_Any minute now he'll attack. _

Nothing. 

_Any minute now. _

When nothing happened, Rory cautiously stood up. 

__

This is EagleEye to HomeBase, we have lost position on HotSlyBoyfriend. Rory paused to giggle at the insanity running wild in her head. She looked around her but to no avail. Her mischievous boyfriend was no where to be seen but there was no way that she was going to lose this battle. 

Logic told her that he had to be crouching against the gazebo's walls, but where? 

_I'm surrounded. Stay calm, Gilmore, you can get yourself out of this. _

She knew what she had to do. In this case, it was best to sell oneself out to one's enemies. Go quietly, with puppy eyes, pouting lips and as many eyelash flutters as necessary. 

"Tris-?"

It came unexpectedly. The onslaught of snow, the playful shouting, the running, the laughing. Before she new it, Rory was racing for the steps, trying desperately to evade Tristan as he rushed up from behind her, pelting her with snowballs and heaving a warrior's cry. She raced around the bench and scrambled for the steps but before her foot landed on the last step, strong arms were wrapping around her waist, swooping her up and spinning her around, only to dump her unceremoniously in the snow moments later.

High-pitched giggles escaped from her lips as Tristan fell alongside her, rolling in the snow before shaking his head over hers, sending a miniature snow storm falling around her face. 

"Tristan! How could you?" Struggling to keep her tone serious, Rory pushed her hands against his chest in an effort to get him off her. 

Tristan could see her blushing cheeks and delighted eyes and he knew she was the farthest from mad as she had ever been. "Well, maybe if you weren't so miserable at aiming, not to mention dodging, snowballs, you would have stood a chance."

Rory laughed indignantly as she continued to shove against the muscled body covering the length of hers. "I'll have you know that I invented the Snowball Sidestep Defense."

"Really?" Tristan question, a mock pensive look covering his features. Rory nodded proudly. "Hmm, that's funny. I don't think I've ever heard of it."

Rory's eyebrows scrunched together as she thought of a response and, without missing a beat, one came. It was time to get even. With playfully narrowed eyes, she raised her lips to his ear and lowered her voice to a seductive whisper. "Well, that's because it's so effective. You know, top secret, mission impossible, high access, totally confidential. The whole nine yards. Something that you," she paused, "definitely couldn't handle."

Tristan nearly gawked at her smoldering eyes and sexy murmurs. It was bad enough that her hands were pressing against his chest and he lay completely on top of her but now Tristan could feel a familiar fire sweeping over every inch of his body. 

Unable to move or form one coherent thought he stared down into her eyes trying to understand what had gotten into her. 

Rory tried to keep her face serious but Tristan's wide, surprised eyes and slack jaw were almost enough to make her succumb to the urge to laugh and blow her cover. While playing with the tiny, soft hairs at the back of his neck, Rory cleared her throat expectantly. 

Tristan shook his head and struggled to ignore the feeling of her nails grazing against the sensitive skin of his neck. 

"I-I see." He suppressed a cringe as he heard his own stuttering, miserable attempt at a reply. 

At that, Rory withdrew her hands and leveled her eyes with his, recovering her usual tone. 

"Besides, I only let you win because you're a rookie."

Tristan's faced scrunched up in confusion and Rory felt his body tense. "W-What?…I –"

"I believe that I win…" Rory grinned triumphantly. "Rookie."

Understanding swept over Tristan's face and his body relaxed once again as his cheeks tinted an even rosier pink. Rory laughed in victory as he groan and hid his face against her neck. 

Rory shivered at the feel of his cold nose against her skin and, removing her gloves, rubbed his back gently. "It's okay. You can admit defeat and shower me with your praises later."

"That's it!" Within seconds he was reaching for her neck, lightly tickling the skin at the base of her throat. 

"Tristan, no!"

"Oh, is this bothering you? I thought I was just a rookie, Gilmore!"

His hand found its way under her sweater and began to ravage her sensitive stomach. Shrilled laughter escaped her lips as Rory managed to roll out from under him and scamper away. 

Before she could get very far, she was gently tackled from behind and lowered once more into the snow. This time, Tristan crashed down next to her, spreading out his arms and legs, both of them breathing heavily as the last of their laughter subsided. 

"I win again," Tristan said breathlessly. "DuGrey, two. Gilmore, zero." 

Rory grunted, too comfortable point out her victory and start something else. Besides, she had already learned the hard way that in the chance that she did start something, Tristan would definitely finish it.

"Come on, let's make snow angels before all of this gets to you head."

Tristan laughed gently but soon they were quietly moving their arms and legs against the snow, staring at the clouds dotting the vast blue sky over. 

For many moments they were silent until Tristan's voice broke the tranquility. "It's too cold for snow angles."

Rory turned on her side, giggling, but stopped when she saw her boyfriend. His messy, usually spiky hair was flattened against his head, the golden strands turned light brown by the water. His light sweater and jeans were soaked through and his cheeks and nose were bright red against his pale skin. 

"Come here," she whispered. Tristan turned onto his side and pulled himself up next to her, their faces inches away. Their breath left their lips in smoky swirls and faded from sight as quickly as they had come. Rory took hold of his cold hands and brought them up to her mouth, blowing gently and pausing only to rub her hands over his. 

"You're completely soaked, Tristan." She murmured, not sounding half as stern as she meant to. 

"Not true," he whispered back, tiredly. "My feet are nice and warm." 

Rory smiled half-heartedly and stared quietly at him for a moment. She had seen him at his worst, when his face was pale with pain and fear and his eyes hid all of his emotions from her. But now, sprawled out next to her in the soft snow, his tired face was unlined and his sapphire eyes shone gently with their calming light. 

"You know, Mom really is okay with what you told her." She watched as he shifted uncomfortably, although his eyes never left hers. "I just want you to know that she really likes you and…" 

Her voice trailed off and Tristan watched her silently, patiently waiting for her to be ready. 

"Tristan," Gentle fingertips reached up to caress her skin and lovingly tuck her hair behind her ear, urging her to continue. "I just want you to know how proud I am of you. And how much I love you."

A gentle smile broke across his face as Tristan closed his eyes at her words. This was it. This was what he wanted for the rest of his life. Rory. Only Rory. 

Meanwhile, Rory could hear her heartbeat thrumming loudly in her ears. She knew exactly what he would say but just being with him was a wild rush that had her skin tingling and her skin flushing yet could calm and comfort her like no other. 

Inching closer, Tristan threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her lips to his. Rory's hands founded fistfuls of his sweater and pulled him even closer, forgetting about the gazebo, the snow. Everything. 

There was something irresistible about him. Maybe it was the way his fingers rubbed soft circles into her back that left her skin burning for his touch. Maybe it was his soft lips and sweet taste that left her lips aching for more. Maybe it was the connection she could feel sparking between them as he kissed her even harder. 

Or maybe it was the fact that he cherished her, above everything. That, with all of his faults, failings, and imperfections he was…perfect. 

Slowly, Tristan pulled his lips from hers. "Rory," His voice was husky and deep in her ear and his muscular chest heaved for breath against her hands. "We're in the middle of town."

Rory pouted but knew that he was right. They could easily blame their blushing skin on the cold, but there was no way that Tristan would get away with such swollen lips. Rory licked her lips, craving his on hers once more but Tristan only laughed softly and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. 

"We should get back," he mumbled, but he made no effort to move. 

Rory nodded but settled deeper into his arms. She caught a scent of soap and aftershave, a soft smell that tickled her nose and reminded her only of Tristan. It was the same smell that permeated his apartment; the couch, the pillows, the sheets. 

Rory's mind drifted back to nights spent wrapped up in his strong arms, listening to him breathing softly in his sleep, feeling so safe and loved and precious. No matter what worries were running through his head, regardless of what demons he was battling, he was never not there for her when she needed him. He was her fallen angel. 

"How could you be so strong?" Rory murmured, her voice soft with wonder. 

Tristan shook his head lazily and gave her a half-smile. "I'm anything but strong, Rory."

"No, Tristan," came her adamant reply. "You're an incredible person." So sweet, so selfless, and so loving. But she didn't need to say that, she told him wordlessly, with her eyes. 

Tristan gave her a tired smile and held both of her hands in his. 

He was like a weary, worn warrior, Rory thought. Already he had fought so many battles, and he knew there would be more to come, but he never gave up. Never stopped fighting. No matter what.

Tristan smiled at the girl who lay wrapped up in his arms, staring at him with more love in her eyes than he ever thought possible. Never would he ever be worthy of her sweet kisses. Never should he be allowed to be showered with the light from her bright smiles. Never in a million years would he be deserving of those eyes. 

But Tristan didn't tell her all that, for fear that if those words left his lips he would awake from the dream that all of this surly was. He was the luckiest man alive.

After what seemed like forever, he spoke. "Well, love," he murmured, his voice soft and deep, his constant soothing heartbeat thumping under her hand. "If you say so, I'll believe you."

He seemed to be the epitome of one of God's angels, fallen from Heaven, living in disguise among mankind.

And only the light hint of mischief in his eyes gave him away.

~~~~~~~

Lorelai pushed open the front doors and dropped two armfuls of shopping bags on the hall in the front foyer. Last minute Christmas shopping was the worst, but after buying herself a cup of Luke's steaming, soul-redeeming coffee and getting a picture taken with Santa Taylor, she was definitely in better spirits. 

Shaking snow off her boots, Lorelai noticed two pairs of gleaming boots, pink and black, respectively, lined up neatly on the carpet. A few feet away, a soaking pair of pink Rudolph gloves and a matching hat were strategically placed above a heater. Obviously, her daughter hadn't been the one behind all this. 

Lorelai kicked off her boots, letting them lay where they had fallen and listened to the silent house. 

Stepping towards the living room, Lorelai called out. "Rory? Trist-?"

She stopped immediately as Tristan murmured and stretched out, turning towards her in his sleep. The blanket that had been covering him and Rory fell to the floor as Lorelai's eyes scanned the various bowls of food and full coffee mugs spread out along the coffee table. Well, at least one of them was full.

Her daughter lay between Tristan and the back of the couch and Lorelai noticed that they were bundled up warmly in thick sweaters and warm socks. 

A couple certain someones had been frolicking in the snow for awhile. 

Lorelai crept, as quietly as she could, further into the room. She pushed the coffee table further away from the couch, lest Tristan rolled off and bent to pick up the blanket. 

As if sensing her presence, Tristan frowned in his sleep and rolled back over, curling his body protectively around her daughter's and burying his face in her long, flowing hair. 

Lorelai paused before covering the slumbering couple with the blanket once more. 

_He cares about her that much, _she thought and only a mother could see how perfect this young man was for her daughter. 

Without another thought, Lorelai dashed into the kitchen and came rushing back a moment later, camera in hand. She clicked off the flash, hoping to avoid walking Rory and Tristan up. They probably hadn't slept much last night and they definitely needed some rest before tomorrow. 

Leaning carefully over them, Lorelai centered the picture on their faces which were turned towards each other, forehead to forehead. 

Pushing the button, she whispered. "Gotchya." 

She smiled again as Tristan wrapped his arms tighter around Rory's tiny waist and mumbled something she couldn't hear. 

_Tristan, my friend, _she thought. _You have got to relax. _

Even that thought was only half-serious. As a mother, Lorelai was happy that her daughter had found someone who was willing to protect and care for her and obviously respected and cherished her. 

But still, he did need to unwind. Lorelai watched as another frown puckered his face, still flushed from the cold, and lines creased his forehead as his brow furrowed. 

_Hmmm. _There was definitely an opportunity for her here. _I am, after all, the Queen of Unwinding. _

With a thousand ideas flying through her head, Lorelai left the two undisturbed to see to finishing up her Christmas wrapping. 

The only hint of what was to come was a wicked smile that played on her lips.

~~~~~~~

Alrighty! Do you see how long this is?!?!? I still have to write soooooo much more…Well, not a whole lot. 

Anyway, the last half is on its way (and I'm serious this time, there is only one more chapter!!!!)

I can't believe that this story is almost finished…Tear.

Well, review and praise me (plz)………

Or else I'll make you wait another two months for the last half.

Just kidding, I'm not THAT cruel!!!!!!!

Love Always, 

MAdz 


	18. Chapter 18 Not just yet!

Hello,

To all you extremely dedicated fans, I first say thank you and give a thousand apologies! Quite honestly, I'd forgotten about this story! I started it when I was 15 and now I'm in university and it's increasingly difficult to find time. But, I have been receiving your very patient nudges to get me back into action and I've been contemplating finishing it. The problem is, I'm currently working and taking a summer course; that finishes in a few weeks and (in the short month I have off before it all starts again) I was thinking a little closure would be nice, both for you all and for me. 

In addition to the time factor, I truly forget what I had planned for an ending. Honestly, I remember it being nothing special, just a nice change for Tristan. In fact, I think I might have to read through the story again to refresh my memory. If you would like, I'll try my hardest to finish this. It might not be very long, nor can I guarantee that it will live up to the ending you've been waiting for these past three years, but it may be worth a shot.

I'm going to hunt to see if I kept any old notes about my original plans for the final chapter. In the meantime, I'm also very open to suggestions, although I won't promise to pick from among them. Your help, enthusiasm, patience and encouragement has been, and is still, greatly appreciated. Hopefully, I can do you proud!

Sincerely,

Madz

P.S. If you get this, it means I've successfully decoded the uploading process! That's the first hurdle! 


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